Normal is Gone
by White Maid
Summary: An entity breathes life into those who have died and summons them from beyond the dimensions to bring them to its arms. What these newly lived people seek now are the souls and hope of those who still have it. Survivors were necessary for them to finally feel alive.
1. Where?

It had been a normal day, for any of them. Nothing strange had happened in the morning, or the morning beforehand. Everything was ordinary, especially if you count political debates, summer construction, and the flow of work.

Meg Thomas slowly opened her eyes, eyeing the dirt and grass before her. Her head pounded like no tomorrow, as if she had been at a high school club until three in the morning. The female knew better, as she was out of high school, and the last thing she could remember was taking a jog down through the woodland path, just like usual.

The early morning had been warm, though damp from the dew of the nighttime hours passing by. The forest itself had been simple. It was dense, built with fine greenery and coupled with flowers the woman had poked at, but never ate. Not like she needed to. Headphones in, she had jogged, ¾ of the way to her usual destination before she turned around and went back.

She didn't remember ever reaching her point of stopping.

Accepting the cool grass pillow as her pillow for the time being, the woman soon slowly stood up on her feet. Her attire was the same as she could remember. Nothing had been moved, as her water bottle, pepper spray, and her small pack of band-aids remained clipped to her belt.

The blond took the time to finally look around, her blue eyes narrowing quickly. The haze disappeared immediately afterward as she scanned the unfamiliar area, the entire area coated with dark fog. It looked easily about an acre or two of land. It was a partial forest, but even she could see the standing remains of possibly old buildings. Could it have been an old town? An old town that was taken down?

Her teeth digging into her lower lip, the female decided to take two steps forward, feeling as though her breath was loud, almost louder than the footsteps she took to move herself forward. The grass and leaves on the ground were wet, and freshly green, meaning they wouldn't crunch. But this place told her to fear every sound she made. She didn't know why, but her body told her that this place didn't like her presence.

Where was she? Why was she here? Who _brought_ her here? Rubbing at her scalp, she cringed as her fingertips ran over a bump on the back of her head.

In a heartbeat, she had initiated the thought that someone kidnapped her on her run, and dropped her here straight afterward. Now if only the athletic girl could conclude where was here.

Scoping out the area, the woman moved slowly. A building stood tall amongst all of the rocks, tires, and barrels of burning fire. What they were burning seemed like wood, and the building itself seemed like it was the actual thing to fuel the fire it was so worn down.

Meg walked into the building, eyeing the broken floorboards, the stack of crates and wooden boxes, and even the pallet board that was leaning against the doorframe. What was it doing here? With care, she eyed the stairs the lead up, and then a pair of stairs that went down. Clicking her tongue against her teeth for a moment, she figured that a night like this wouldn't be happy if she went down into some random basement. Meg went up.

The strange mechanism was the first thing so far to make her raise an eyebrow. It looked broken, and the woman was, by no means, a mechanic. Kneeling down slowly, she checked the thing.

"What is this?" Her voice felt loud, even though she was whispering. "Some kind of…generator?" It would make sense. All around were turned off lights in the area. They weren't hard to miss, and it looks like the place needed _some_ form of light. Clicking her tongue across her teeth again, Meg started to work at the engine.

Wires. Wires everywhere. Pipes that were shifting in all the wrong places were also causing her to frown. What was this, some sort of sabotage? Goosebumps crawled across her skin as she realized someone had probably, purposefully, disabled the entire system. It was able to be fixed, but it would take some intense concentration, and time.

But someone was purposefully keeping this mechanism in a horrid state. They didn't want the lights on. Could it have been…?

Chills crossed her skin as footsteps echoed just somewhat on the bottom floor. Snapping her head back and forth in the darkened first floor, the woman took to hiding behind the crates, not wanting to be seen by anyone, or anything. It was too risky, and Meg wasn't sure if she was able to fight whoever was here.

Those very footsteps scampered out of the area, using the halfway boarded up doorframe she had seen earlier. Taking a risk, she looked out a nearby window, catching sight of a man in a shirt and tie. In only seconds, he was booking it to a small pile of rocks and a boulder or two, hiding there. Meg frowned, watching the male fidget and adjust his glasses nervously.

Looks like she wasn't the only one here, and this guy looked like he'd seen some shit. He was shaking all over, and she wasn't sure if he was a coward or…running away from something. Meg heaved in a breath of air, taking in the chilly night into her lungs before she sighed and moved back to the generator. It was just faintly humming now, telling her that she was at least getting somewhere.

The noise was bothering her though. It was easily louder than her own breath now, and she prayed that no one harmful would hear. Taking a look out the broken window again, she noticed that the male had disappeared. It filled her with both simultaneous relief of being alone, and fear of being alone.

Turning her head, she looked back to her work just as a face appeared out of the corner of her eye. Immediately, her hands flew up to her face, curling into fists as she prepared to fight the bastard that caused her heart to jump into her throat.

"H-Hey, e-easy!" The loud whisper was partially drowned out from the softly clicking machine, but the blond got the jest of what he was saying. Meg frowned, but kept her fists up as she was willing to punch this guy's glasses into his membrane. He looked like he could barely put up a fight. What a geek.

Her response of him changed as he began to help repair the generator from a different side, continuing to whisper to her. "L…let's work together. Please?"

Watching him tremble in his shoes caused her to slowly put down her fists and then move back to the grumbling mechanism. However, she was still suspicious of his actions.

"How did you get here, and why are you trying to get so buddy-buddy with me?" Her fingers went back to the work at the generator ask he spoke. Her ears were open to every shaky syllable that left his mouth.

"I…" He then paused and stopped working until she glared at him. "You don't know…what's out here? That…that thing that stalks us?"

Meg felt another wave of chills crawl up her spine, as though frostbitten fingers brushed up her back. "W…What? What do you mean "that thing?" You don't…possibly mean—" He cut her off, as if reading her mind with those round glasses.

"He brought you here, I bet. Just like he did with me. There might be others around, but I haven't met them. So…can we please…please stick together? For the sake of our sanity?" Deep, moving eyes looked straight into her own, causing her to blink once and pause for a moment in her work. There was something about this man. He was one hell of a coward, but the look of sincerity in his eyes was so gut-wrenching it caused her to just…stop.

Her answer was, however, cut short as the generator suddenly sprang to life, lighting up the entire platform. Both of them looked up at the light, but the male didn't seem happy with it. Meg felt him grab her wrist and start hauling her towards a nearby window, quick to duck to the side.

The female opened her mouth to speak, clearly annoyed he just dragged her along, but he put a finger to his lips in response. His voice returned to a whisper. "When you hear your heartbeat get loud and fast, _it_ is nearby. Loud noises attract it." Meg raised an eyebrow and he tapped a finger to his ear. "Listen." His hands were shaking now, Meg realized, causing her to stop all thoughts and listen.

Her heart skipped a beat, and suddenly started pounding. She gripped her chest as adrenaline spiked through her veins, her breathing trying to catch up to the sudden blood rush. That was when she saw it. Right out through the window was a strange, deformed man. With the muscles of an ox, and the smile of a murdered clown, it was heading in the direction of their spot without hesitation. Her stomach dropped as she watched the cleaver in its hand sway just barely, the moonlight glinting off the blade to show the scarlet stains that have long since dried.

"Oh…oh my God." Meg was no scaredy cat. Not at all. But whoever that was didn't seem like some Halloween joke. _That face… Was it even a face…?_

The male caught her attention again by pinching her wrist, bringing her back to reality. Then, without warning, he dropped down from the floor and into the tall grass with a simple drop and roll. Casually, he then looked up and motioned her to follow.

Meg couldn't believe it. This geeky, fumbling man was just shaking in his boots, and now he's suddenly as confident as a jock at a football game. How did he even manage that jump!? Meg was an athlete, but even she couldn't do that!

As she thought this, her heartbeat grew louder and louder in her ears, causing her whole head to pound as footsteps trudged up the staircase. She had no other choice. Heaving in a breath, the blond dropped the same way he had, rolling soon afterward to blend in with the tall grass, and land next to the crouching male. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. No ache, no pain, not even a twinge of "ow" in her brain.

He grabbed her wrist immediately, grip firm and secure to lead her behind a large set of tires, stacked both neatly, but with the precision of a 3 year old stacking blocks at the same time.

"By the way," he whispered, casting a nervous grin once she turned to look at him. "I'm Dwight. Dwight Fairfield." The grin disappeared almost instantly as he looked up at the first floor again. Meg could see a thin coat of sweat shining on his forehead, proving that he was still frightened. Who wouldn't be…? She followed his gaze enough to cringe as the heartbeat still thudded through her ears.

The man was moving around like he owned the place, eyeing the rumbling generator, then out the windows. Boldly, he stood in front of the window they had just hopped out of, and both of them could see his shoulders rise and fall. Meg's eyes widened as she realized he was sniffing them out. What was he, some kind of hound!? In his free hand was a bear trap, swinging ever so faintly as he breathed and looked for the survivors. Meg swallowed nervously, her mouth as dry as dirt, even when he turned away.

"…Meg Thomas."

"What?" Dwight looked to her, blinking as perspiration slipped down his temple. She looked to him and then started to slip through the grass quietly, keeping as low as possible but still attempting to move elsewhere. Anywhere away from the heartbeat.

"My name is Meg Thomas."

She turned away once she saw his grin get a bit more confident, his hand slipping from her wrist. Meg quickly grabbed for his own wrist or hand, latching onto him like a lifeline. The woman was scared, yes, and she knew they needed one another. If they let go…what would happen? If they split up in this god-forsaken place…

Then what?

Meg began to think, chewing fiercely on her lower lip as the heartbeat slowly faded away. She barely even registered Dwight returning the grip, his palms sweating. Meg began to see something she didn't like as she did this. The brick wall seemed to go on forever, and ever. It looked new, fresh, and hardly as run-down as the small spots of wall she had come across already so many times before.

After a little bit, as the heartbeat finally stopped, Meg quickly moved to lean up against what appeared to be a large spoil, trying to catch her breath as she wiped at the sweat along her chest and forehead. "So, I have questions. Can you answer them for me, geekboy?"

The playful name caused the other to cringe a bit and then twiddle his thumbs after letting go of her wrist. Meg noticed, and she would definitely remember to not say it again. Trust was key. "Those generators w-we found. We…we have to get them up a-and running so we c-can open the gates. A-and get out of here." There was his stutter again. Meg sighed but acknowledged what he said.

"And where are the exits?" Here, Dwight pointed in two directions. Glad to know he had found them. "Alright, well, how many generators do we need to open them?"

Here, he only shrugged, causing her heart to sink. Meg seemed to think for a moment straight afterward.

They needed to trust one another. Even if they had their differences, they had to cooperate. Had to communicate. Firmly, and suddenly, Meg grasped both of his hands between her own, a fierce look in her eyes, judging by Dwight's sudden expression of surprise.

"Dwight, I don't care who you were outside of this place. I don't care who you were with other people. This…this _place_ is a closed off section of the world, and we need to cooperate if we want to get the hell out of here. Alive. That's a killer. A goddamn serial killer, for all we know. I'm not dumb. I've been seeing meathooks scattered all around here, and by God I don't think it's for pigs or cattle." Despite her confidence, her voice shook and she took a hand away from Dwight's to rub it at her sweating forehead.

"If we don't group up and get the hell out of dodge, we _will_ be the cattle for whatever sick fuckery he has for us. You…need to trust me. And I need to trust you just as much." Dwight's face seemed to glow brightly after a little while of thought, and his eyes quickly became glazed with tears. Meg decided that the poor fellow had gone through hard times.

With a sniff, Dwight soon nodded in her direction, confirming that he whole-heartedly agreed before he grasped at her hands in return. "I don't know who you were either outside of here, Meg, but…you are a wonderful, and smart person. I…I'm so lucky to have you saying stuff like that to me."

The blond rolled her eyes and gently clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, "lucky" as in, "we both dumped here now let's team up and try to escape from a mass murderer in the woods."" Dwight couldn't help but share a smile with her, but it faded as the familiar heartbeat rang in their ears. Both of them looked up, then at one another before moving, crouching low in the grass.

Despite how they moved, Meg began to realize that the heartbeat still echoed, showing that the killer was close by. Too close. After shifting around a brick wall, the woman suddenly moved, sitting quickly in a corner and pulling Dwight into her by the back of his shirt. Thank God he was silent as he was formed to lay on her lap. Her hand quickly covered his mouth, noticing he was shaking like a leaf all over again. The heartbeat was almost deafening, and footsteps were now just as audible.

Meg's eyes widened as she saw him. The malicious glint of his cleaver winked at them, as if saying they were next as the killer walked only two feet in front of them, going away to their left. He was so close she could see the cracking of his skin, the way his muscles rippled under his flesh and how much his grin was etched into his face. She couldn't tell if it was a mask or a face, or both.

They were in the worst position. If he just turned to his own left and looked, he would see them, sitting cowardly in a corner with cold knees, unable to move. Meg might have been able to, but Dwight was with her, unable to due to fear. He was pumped with ice. She was pumped with adrenaline.

As the killer trudged onward, Meg noticed the bear trap from before was no longer in his free hand, leaving his fist to clench and unclench freely. The heartbeat slowly faded away, causing Meg to slump and hit her head against the brick wall.

Dwight questioned if she was okay, but she could only shake her head. "…Dwight, I just realized something." She looked up at the male, and he could see her hands were trembling. She let him take her hands, trying to comfort her as she spoke again. "He's setting traps down. Dwight, if he catches us…we will never make it home. We…we're pigs to the slaughter for him. That's…that's a killer. We can't let him catch us. Ever."

Meg had seen killers before. In dreams, nightmares, movies, pictures and books. She had seen people freak out, cry, and become immobile from fright just from the presence of a killer. She now understood why. She now understood why they were all so frozen with fright, like a deer in front of a car.

Dwight wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and despite how sweaty they both were, Meg wrapped her own arms around him, taking in the scent of a male's cologne. It was no longer a musky scent, but a sweet one, one that prayed she wouldn't lose. No, she hadn't developed feelings for him, because she feared that if she did, Dwight would be gone. Suddenly scooped up and carried away like a bag of luggage at the airport.

She wondered if he feared the same.

Taking in a shaky breath, she soon pulled away, rubbing at her face nervously. "We have to get the generators started. Or those birds will have something to munch on from inside us." Dwight cringed but soon nodded, moving to stand and holding out his hands to her. Meg felt all of the blood come back to her legs, as she realized that Dwight had been no light-weight sucker.

Happily, she accepted his hands and stood up, stretching out her ankles and then moving through the bushes again. She didn't crouch this time. There was a sudden sense of urgency in her brain kicking her into gear as she and Dwight held hands this time. They were most likely the only two alive, so they felt it was appropriate to wordlessly keep some form of embrace. It would, however, be harder to rip away from them if they were to be killed.

"Uh, Meg?" She looked to him from over her shoulder, his nervous demeanor back up again. "If…if one of us were to die, or…get taken away…what do we do? Save each other? Continue?"

Meg bit her lower lip, seeming to think over that. It was a nasty question, but under his circumstances, there was no mistake that she had to think of her own answer soon. Licking her lips, she spoke, her throat dry once again. "We…have to continue on. It's what we want for each other, right?"

It was a bitter moment, but Dwight seemed to agree with her decision, albeit with his gaze glancing down dimly to the forest floor. Meg didn't know what to say to him, but simply turned to look forward again.

As she did this, they both passed under a meathook, causing her skin to crawl. Her blue eyes glanced up to the swinging chain, taking note of the brown blood that clung there. Both of them saw it, but neither one of them addressed it. Instead, as a generator was right by, both of them let go of the other to fix the tapered wires and broken pipes. Just like before, the engine began to rumble.

About 1/5 of the way through, Dwight stood up, soon motioning for her that all was okay. "I'm going to see if there are any spots we can hide in real quick. Only about a few meters away and such. Okay?" Meg looked at him and nodded. As she went back to work she listened very closely to their surroundings. She didn't question the reliability of the heartbeat, but she also wondered why they were all here in the first place. Was it a sick game? Something that happened regularly with missing people?

As Dwight came back, he was soon tapping her shoulder quickly, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin and smack his silly. He noticed and quickly put his hands up defensively, but didn't speak a word as he pointed to a direction just in front of Meg. Looking up and over the generator that quietly hummed, she could see a flashlight flickering all around like a searchlight.

Meg leaped to her feet. "Another survivor! We have to get to them before that light of theirs attracts a hoard of killers!" Her voice was a hiss, and surprisingly enough to her, Dwight was the first to bend his knees a bit and tread through the tall grass. The blond followed, crouching just a bit to give them distant leg room to walk steadily over to the flashlight.

As Meg and Dwight got closer, they were greeted about ten feet away with a flashlight to their eyes. Both flinched and Dwight hissed, flailing one arm in a cutting motion. "The light!" he whispered loudly. "Cut the light!" Seconds later, the figure fumbled for the light, but both were stunned by the damn brightness of the damned thing. Meg opened her eyes and blinked, seeing an apologetic and highly worried face.

"I-I'm sorry!" Identifying the voice as a woman's was a bit of a relief to Meg, but she quickly tried to calm the other girl down. "It's okay, just get down and crouch over here. We need to hide. Now." As soon as she said that, the heartbeat started up in all of their chests. Dwight wasted no time in grabbing the girl's shoulder and starting to haul her away.

Instead of following, she freaked out. "Why do we need to hide? What's going on? Who are you!?" Meg hit the other so hard in the head, one could swear she left a bruise.

"Shut the _fuck_ up and _follow us_ before you die." Her words were full of both venom and truth. Meg's eyes burned so fiercely that the girl cringed and then furiously nodded before they were all slipping into the crevices and cracks of a series of boulders, crates and barrels. Meg kept a hand on the newcomer's mouth while Dwight blocked them from view, pressing himself hard into the cracks the ladies had fit through.

Dwight was attempting to be brave, making sure the killer would see him first before them. _Noble AND stupid._ They all waited as their heartbeats echoed in strange unison as footsteps followed soon after. The girl started to quickly panic, but she was unable to move with how Meg was crushing her head against a nearby rock, hand still on her mouth.

Meg felt the coldness of the situation settle directly into her lungs, causing her to stop breathing. It was as though she had just inhaled too much helium, or swallowed whole ice cubes. He was there again, standing tall and his shadow casting over them all. Meg was certain they all felt fear writhe in their guts as that wretched, smiling face looked around, shoulders bumping up and down lightly.

Again, he was sniffing the air, and Meg could only hope that neither one of them had soiled themselves.

Gradually, the beast disappeared off into the shrubs, glancing to the softly humming generator that had two pistons moving. Meg watched him then look around and then depart for something behind a tree.

Her blue eyes widened as a bear trap was now in his free hand, causing her to realize that all of those were everywhere, scattered about for this man to use whenever he needed. She felt all of them tense up as the killer set the item down right by the generator and pried it open with his bare hands, not letting go of the weapon of choice once. With a squeal, the rustic metal was pried open, and the mouth of the trap sat there on the ground, screaming silently.

Satisfied, the man turned, stepping over his trap and walked off in another direction. All three pairs of eyes followed the lumbering killer, all the way until the heartbeat had died down. Meg moved first, moving to carefully avoid kicking Dwight's head and to make her way around the trap. She didn't know how to disable it, so she stuck with going around it to get to the generator.

"What… Who was that?" The girl with the dreadlocks was now quite white in the face, causing Meg to look over and shrug. Dwight, however, answered for her more verbally, his voice a tense whisper. "All we know is…is that h-he put us h-here. But, we have to fix the g-generators. T-They start up the exits."

"Exits?" A glimmer of hope passed through her dark eyes, causing her to soon try to wiggle around Dwight, who eventually moved. "Then let's hurry up and fix them."

Meg raised an eyebrow at her newfound companion. "What's your name?"

Seeming to be threatened by the harsh gaze of the athletic woman, the other shied away a bit, but spoke as she avoided the rusty bear trap. "C-Claudette Morel." Meg reached around, her hand slowly becoming darker with the oils and dirt of the near-sabotaged generator.

"I'm Meg Thomas. That fellow over there is Dwight…uh, Fairfield, right?" The geek nodded and wandered over, moving to stand by Claudette and fumble with the generator as well.

This is what they did. They repaired, hid away, and then repaired again. Meg pointed out the meathooks, wanting to avoid them, and then gesturing to the leaning pallets. They would definitely be useful if they were in a hurry to run away.

Dwight gave Claudette the rundown of the heartbeat, but none of them could explain why a brick wall surrounded the entirety of the place.

Something about this sudden peacefulness bugged Meg, however. It felt…like an endless loop had commenced. They were on their third generator as they quietly spoke, leaving Meg to sit in her thoughts and keep the lining of cords together. Red with red, blue with blue… It was simple, really. Meg didn't think much of it.

But because of that, she realized that _was_ their downfall just after.

As she tied the shadowed green with the blue on accident, a sudden spark ignited right in front of her face and the whole generator exploded on one side. Heat washed over her, and all three had to cover their faces as Claudette gasped. It had been so loud after all the whispering that it left Meg with her ears ringing.

"What did you do!?" Dwight hissed, looking her dead in the eye as she put her arms down.

"It was an accident," she growled, her breath shaking just as much as his hands were. "I didn't know it would explode!" She watched their faces turn to shades of white she had never seen before in a human, unless they were ill. Now that her ears stopped ringing, she could now hear why.

"Guys…?" Claudette's voice was a squeak, and Meg could see her knees shaking.

Dwight swallowed. "Run."

Meg blinked as her heart beat a mile a minute. For good reason. "W…why?"

Dwight screamed suddenly and sprinted off, causing Claudette to follow. "RUN!"

The blond spun around, quick to feel ice coat the inside of her throat from fear that leeched onto her. There he was, walking straight towards her like a Halloween murderer. He was looking right at her, and for a moment, she could barely find her footing as she scrambled to stand and run.

Dwight and Claudette were gone, leaving her alone against a killer.

She was going to die.


	2. Hung

**(fjsdfksd -falls over- This took forever, thanks to college. But AAAAA, always so fun to write. Thanks to all my readers. ^w^ Enjooooy! And happy early Hallow's Eve~)**

* * *

Meg had always hated horror movies. Not because she feared them, no. It was because that she was always finding herself glaring at the stupid women or main characters that ran up the stairs, hide in tight, inescapable spaces, or just couldn't move. They were idiots!

She never understood what possessed them to do stupid things. She had seen the old, cliché movies. Why would you run into the woods? Why would you take a shortcut through the alleyway? Why would you not turn on the lights, or run away from something that seemed like it could poke your intestines out?

Meg was now in that predicament, sprinting at full speed to god knows where. Her back was coated in a thin layer of sweat which had blossomed within the second she had seen him and now it had grown up to the back of her neck. Dirt flew past her heels as she bolted through the woods, flicking the soles of her feet through the mounds of dirt and grass as fast as she could.

If Meg had been in track right then, she would've scolded herself for not going around this tree fast enough, or stopping herself at this right time to evade the roots and tires.

Keyword: _If_

Meg was not in track and even if she wanted to pretend she was, she wasn't. Not at all. The grass was too thick, the obstacles too random. If she didn't have any shoes on, the blond was sure that she would sink her soles into rusted nails, or into awaiting thorn fingers. She didn't need either one.

She didn't look back. Why would she? It would only slow her down and get her into further trouble. His footsteps, heavy, like a large dogs, was enough for her to bend her torso down.

Thoughts of horror and cruelty flitted through her imagination as her heartbeat thudded in anticipation and screamed into her soul. Where could she go? What could she do?

Meg suddenly turned, hoping to throw him off as she leaped over a small ledge, feeling the grey paint fall beneath her fingers. For some reason, her mind clung to that as she casted a glance just over her shoulder. Betraying her thoughts, she did this as discreetly as possible, allowing her to see him slowly making his way through the way she did.

 _He's slow. Maybe if I can do that a couple times and duck somewhere, I can get out of view!_

It was an excellent idea, so she thought, and watched him for a bit longer before feeling her feet fumble. With a flail of her arms and legs, the woman found herself face-flat on the ground, the sides of her legs and elbows suffering from her damned fall. Dirt crumbling into her saliva, Meg knew she would regret this and her stupid, horror cliché decision for a long, long time.

Spitting out the soil, the woman wasted no time in getting back up and full-blown legging it again, uncaring of the dirt under her nails or the new grass stains on her pants.

Feeling the grit of the dirt slide between her teeth like chunky, old milk, the woman spat to the side once more and then launched herself over a rock, feeling the edges claw at her calf. Her actions were now a blur to her as her body pumped adrenaline through her veins and into her sore muscles. She didn't know how much she had in her, but it was something.

Eyeing the house from before, with the rumbling generator at the top, Meg pushed herself harder. Spinning on her heels, she whipped her hands out and slammed the wooden pallet down so hard she wondered if she had nearly broke it by herself. As she stood in the doorway for only a second, she could see him still pursuing her, the blade in his hand winking at her. _It's your turn,_ it said.

"Like hell it will be!" she hissed and spun, taking the downstairs path she had seen before. It was better than sprinting up the steps and then managing to leap into the arms of her tracker.

The woman lunged down the stairs so fast, she nearly managed to fumble and smack into the wall. With hands stinging, the athlete dived down the next set and was rewarded with a sight. One that made her stomach churn and her feet to go cold as chains swung. With her breath being the only thing accompanying her, she watched the blood-stained hooks shiver from the footsteps above. The footsteps that were tearing down the wooden pallet that she had just pulled down.

Feeling sweat accumulating on her upper lip, Meg calculated the danger that she had just put herself in by running into a dead-end room. A room full of hooks, lockers, and no doors except up, and going up didn't sound like a good idea as the thudding of his soles were coming _down._ Now frantic, Meg tore off to hide as quickly as possible in the closet near the back and sidled up against the stairs.

With a squeak of the hinges, which made her cringe, she shut the door behind her as quietly and as quickly as she could manage before ducking down into the locker. This was the last place she wanted to go, the last place she wanted to be cornered it, but here she was with sweat clinging to her body like a jock after summer P.E while a killer, _of all people,_ was attempting to slice her in two. Or whatever.

 _And who built these fucking lockers?_ Meg thought bitterly, eyeing the wide slits in the top that beaconed light into the locker like a yellow warning from the flickering lightbulb. Standing up from her crouch, the woman took a solid second to quickly survey the area and then duck down, as though she had gotten singed by a heat source.

In front of her was a locker and a small corner where she could do a round-about and hide from the killer. Biting her thumbnail, she began to think through the sweat, her heavy heart, and her shivering body. His boots echoed her inner fear as it grasped her stomach with a freezing grip. She could hear him checking the two lockers at the foot of the stairs and it sounded as though he was trying to rip them off the hinges. The doors squealed open and then slammed shut, proving that he wasn't happy about her not being in there.

Something told her that he knew where to look.

Meg crossed her fingers tightly and closed her eyes, breathing becoming stale and heavier in fear. _Oh please don't check this locker, oh please, oh please, oh please!_

Listening to his footsteps on the dirt floor, she let her eyes open for a moment and forced herself to slowly stand, shifting her weight as silently as possible, but she didn't dare raise her eyes to the beaten, metal bars of the locker.

What made her finally look was the footsteps took a slight directional turn and she had a hunch where. Meg's blue eyes darted towards the lit spot, and could see the hulking form of the beast. He was heading towards the other closet, just in front of her. This forced her to move fast, but her thought had worked at a 50% chance.

With quivering hands, the woman quickly opened the locker just as he did the other, closed it and then sprinted towards the corner on the tips of her toes. There was a dividing wall between the locker, and then hers, giving her a small corner to duck into. If he was going to check the closet she had just been in, then she could slip around the dividing wall as he did so and duck down on the other side he had already looked around.

 _Just don't see me_ in _the corner, you fuck_.

Seeing him pass by so close this time caused her heart to freeze in her throat, but better her heart than her feet, because she needed those. Technically, she needed both, but the heart-freezing isn't literal. One would hope.

Watching him approach the locker, Meg used the front of her feet to tip toe fast around the corner and took no time in dropping down in the corner, pressing herself tightly up against the wood. Doors squealed on rusted hinges and then slammed shut, much more fiercely than before.

Now, Meg waited with her heart slamming into whatever was left in her eardrums. Gritting her teeth and tasting the soil from earlier, she didn't dare watch him. As per usual, she listened to his footsteps and her heartbeat, waiting for him to go up the stairs.

Slowly, the footsteps traveled up the wooden floorboards, creaking all the way and echoing into her brain. Meg gradually slid down the wooden divider, finally gasping for breath as she had been holding it for so long, and had to after running a solid stretch.

He was gone, and she could finally get some wind back in her body. Meg, however, was quick to curse in her mind as she rubbed her trembling hands together, wondering if she had managed to break a finger or two on the way down, despite how she didn't break her ankles on the second story jump with Dwight. At that thought, she wondered where they had gone, Claudette and Dwight. For several seconds, she really hated them, as they had left her behind like a pig for the slaughter. Left her alone like it was all good fun.

Another shiver passed through her as she thought again, and realized that the only reason she got away was due to her athletic skills. If either Claudette or Dwight had gotten snagged, they wouldn't have been able to make it. Despite the murderer's size, he had a stride that almost matched her running speed.

Heaving in a breath and hauling herself up, Meg moved to take a sprint up towards the stairs. She had heard him move out, so now was her chance to sprint, and sprint far. Hauling in several, more deep breaths, the blond darted towards and up the stairs smoothly, remaining correct in her auditory check.

As soon as she got to the top of the basement steps, she stooped down into a crouch and quickly maneuvered her way towards the upper floor, being as quiet as possible. Even if he had left the basement, that didn't mean he had left the surrounding area. She needed to think of where to go. The generators were a must, no doubt, but where to check for a couple?

A light burned brightly just in her vision as she stared out the first window, causing her attention to veer completely to that area.

"A generator?" With her mouth as dry as cotton, she felt her words become more of a raspy garble than actual speech. Once those words left her mouth, she could then spot two figures darting away from the glowing sector.

For a solid second, Meg heard the heartbeat in her ears, thrumming loud like a metronome. Clutching a hand over her heart, she watched the hulking figure march through the foggy land, determination covering every inch of his being. He wanted to kill. This much Meg could get off of his body language, and it gave her massive goosebumps.

Crouching low, she made her way out of the light, hoping to simply sit up on the second floor and relax with her semi over-the-top view. She could see relatively far from here, even with the mist. Claudette and Dwight were sprinting off towards another generator, keeping themselves as low as possible to not attract the beast.

"Good plan," Meg muttered, wondering if she could find the generator they had been on before she had screwed up. Clicking her tongue softly against her top teeth, Meg moved to poke her head out of the closest window, eyeing the direction she figured she had come from only five minutes ago. In the distance, she could see the old generator softly puttering, showing that it had some work put into it, but not enough to kick start it into gear.

Now how to get there.

Blue eyes narrowing, the athlete followed a discrete pathway with her eyes, making small landmarks in her head as she went until her range of view caught a faint glare of red. Shivers crawled up her spine as she snapped her head in that direction. A red glow was emanating from between the limbs of trees. What was that?

Making note of it, the woman figured she'd visit there sooner or later as the generator wasn't too far from it. Licking her chapped lips, Meg moved to survey the area, just in case he could see her, before falling from the top floor. Using her muscles, she quickly made sure she was upright as she landed on her foot, soon rolling just to make sure she didn't break any foot bones. Or her ankles.

Rolling into the grass was easy as she used her shoulder to take the majority of the impact, ducking her chin into her chest to avoid breaking her skull or spine. With her fingers still aching and her nerves on edge, Meg rolled herself into an elegant crouch and moved along through the shrubs, keeping herself low. The generator wasn't too far off, softly purring despite its rusty engines.

Keeping her ears open, the blond tended quietly to the engine. Wires were bundled up like horrible tangles in thick hair, to the point it was almost impossible to see the wires that actually needed repair. Pipes were freely turned almost all the way around, twisting the valves and causing more pressure than needed.

She got to work, uncaring of the grease and oil that was smearing over her skin. Getting dirty was something she was used to in order to win. This time it was to survive.

Resuming her work, Meg tugged at old cords and twisted pipes around to fit back in place. The grease that dripped around haphazardly was warm but eventually fixed itself as it slowly melded back into the machine. Meg could feel it getting hotter than more she repaired it as the wires started to spark dangerously and the machine began to make more noise, proving her progress. With her heart in her throat, she constantly looked around and over her shoulders, bracing for the sudden catch in her heartrate that signaled the killer. Meg didn't know how much time she had, but it was probably running out the longer she stayed in this damned place.

 _Ba-thump._

Oh no.

 _Ba-thump._

"Oh fuck me," she hissed, glancing around the foggy area as her heart began to beat against her ribcage. Wiping her hands along the cold grass, Meg darted upward and ducked down low behind the nearest tree. The bark was a welcome embrace on her body as the support was certainly firm against her tired body. Leaning against the bark as calmly as possible, her backside nestled into the roots, Meg felt her heart speed up and increase to heavy thumps in her ears.

The growl that echoed just from the other side of the tree caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. A breathless and silent gasp slipped past her lips as she realized how _close_ he was.

Heavy breathes were audible from the armed man, informing Meg that he was sniffing the air for her. Slowly, Meg put her hands against the rough bark, feeling the little crooks and cracks as she braced herself to run. Listening to his footsteps added anxiety, but taking in a deep breath through her nose, she decided to take a peek around the tree.

Graciously, his back was to her, but her gut went cold as he felt the oil on the ground. It was still warm, still not as sticky as congealed oil drops. He knew she was around.

As he stood up, Meg whipped back around to try and melt into the tree, her eyes closing tightly as she prayed he would just fuck off and not see her. _You already saw me once before; you piece of shit. Now piss off._

But then again, she wasn't sure how fast Dwight and Claudette could run. Meg knew she was able to vault through broken windows and dart behind walls, but were they? The thought made her drive her nails into the tree bark as she heard his footsteps through the grass.

Her nails drove in even deeper as she watched his form walk right from around her left side, his shadow smothering her own body for a second, but it was a second too long for Meg's poor heart. It was racing a mile a minute, pounding into her ears. She watched him slowly walk in front of her, that same damn weapon glittering in the milky lighting.

Despite her better judgement, Meg closed her eyes tightly as goosebumps gathered on her skin.

 _Please go away, please go away, please go away, please go away, goddamnit!_

What scared her was her fast-paced heartbeat continuing loudly in her chest, but he was completely silent. His shadow didn't move either, telling her that he was aware of her presence.

Slowly, Meg opened her eyes…

And regretted her decision immediately.

With that grinning face looming right in front of her, Meg lost all thought as fear built up in her toes, all the way up to the top of her head. He was just… _there._ He was just watching her, eyeing her. With her voice frozen in her throat, Meg didn't talk. She doubted she could even scream.

A thick hand came up to her face slowly, causing her to flinch and have the back of her head collide into the bark. Biting her bottom lip to avoid making any noise, she then turned her head away from him, wanting to maneuver away from his fingers. Meg was dying to feel her legs and she began to curl her toes and twitch her ankles to get ready.

Leathery, callused fingertips graced her open neck and jawline, causing her heart to fully skip a beat. A nasty shudder swept through her as she wondered if she'd be a victim of more than just murder.

Here, Meg swallowed her fear and turned to look at him with a glare, ready to bite at his fingers. His palm opened in less than a second and pushed firmly into her face, causing Meg's head to snap back temporarily against the tree again. Now she found her voice as pain flowed up hotly through her frozen veins.

His grip was like iron, completely swallowing up any attempts that she tried to scream or cry out whilst her hands tore away from the tree bark and dug into his wrist. He wouldn't let go, even when he started to drag her across the ground.

 _I'm going to die, oh fuck, I know I thought of this before, but I'm going to die, I swear...!_

A sound caught her ears in her panic, causing her to stop for a solid second and listen. The rumble of the nearby generator hummed in her ears and in seconds she realized that someone just started the generator she had just been on.

 _Someone just watched her get taken away._

Anger filled her body and she used it to furthermore kick and scream into the brute's iron hand. He wouldn't let go for anything and instead furthermore drove his fingers into the sides of her head. Meg lessened on her struggle, but that didn't mean she'd not fight to get his hand off her face.

Without warning, she felt her body weight shift. It took him less than ten seconds to throw her up onto his shoulder and even less time to push her off again. As Meg questioned why he was just tossing her off, she understood. She remembered this location in the blink of an eye and started screaming before the pain even hit her.

Ear-piercing to herself, a scream ripped itself from her throat as pain sharply dug through her shoulder and nicked her collarbone. It was so painful that it was all she could think about as tears naturally formed in her eyes. Even if she tried to force it all back, it wouldn't have mattered.

As she blinked through her tears and forced herself to not see red, she watched the bastard walk away, clearly pleased with himself. At least, that is what she figured he would be.

Gasping for air, Meg immediately groped around to try and take the heavy, ripping weight off of her left shoulder, heaving in oxygen to try and steady herself. Gritting her teeth, she wondered if she just nearly fainted as her head spun. The meat hook was digging perfectly through her body, puncturing all the muscle and nerves it wanted. Somehow, the killer managed to miss the bone, but had he done this enough times that he knew what he wanted?

Slowly, Meg watched the rest of the foggy area, tears still streaming down her face from the gorge of pain that swept through her. No one was around. Meg was completely alone and a sense of despair swept over her, almost overtaking the pain in her shoulder for a moment. With her feet completely off the ground, she was probably going to be immobile all the way until she starved to death, or maybe was granted freedom with a stab to her chest.

Ever so slightly, Meg raised her arm, wondering if she could get off the damned hook and get the fuck out. Instead, she was greeted with pain and cringe heavily. It hurt too damn much for her to just wiggle around on this thing, much less getting off of it.

A quick, surprising sob swept over her throat. The athlete cringed, putting her free hand up to her mouth to stop anything else to squeeze itself out. No. She wouldn't look weak until the end. Not until the end, or maybe she could stay strong through the end. Just…maybe…

Meg closed her eyes for a moment, gulping in less air now as she thought about her mother and her school. Even briefly on how cute Dwight was or how much she could've made if she finally had time to herself for a job. Or even college.

"Psst."

If Meg hadn't been on a meat hook, she was pretty sure she could've leaped into the air. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around, wondering if the killer had come back or if someone was actually there to save her. Or be a sadistic bastard and watch her suffer. Forcing her head to look past her injured shoulder, she could see a masculine face sticking out from the shrubs.

Before she could say anything, he began to creep up to her, keeping himself low. "I'm going to get you off. Don't freak out, okay?" Meg blinked several times then nodded, understanding that getting off the hook was going to hurt like hell.

"What…do you want in return?" Meg, in return for her question, got a confused look as he stood just only a few feet in front of her.

"I want you to keep quiet and follow me. Don't waste time, don't screw up, and I'll let you stay with me." Meg blinked slowly once again and then braced for pain as he stretched his hands up to hold her and slip her off. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, "quick and easy, quick and easy."

He held her firmly by the hips before he quickly pulled her up and attempted to bring her down. Meg bit back a scream of pain as she felt the meat hook making a nasty sucking sound as it was drawn away from her skin. With her knees weak and her shoulder screaming in pain just as much as she was in her head. A firm arm wrapped her waist, propping her up against the form of the male.

Calmly, he helped escort her away from the area, easily capable of probably lifting her if he needed to. Meg tried not to gasp as she dug her nails into her right forearm, wanting to take the pain away from her bleeding shoulder.

"…Thank you." A croak of words sounded from her, and she quickly cringed. In response, two fingers simply tapped on her hip, telling her mutely that everything was okay. Meg didn't know if she could even trust this guy, but he was certainly causing her to relax.

"Listen." Meg looked up towards the male, eyeing his dark hair and matching eyes. He continued to speak. "Those two are working on the last generator. The door that will open with the power is close by. I got a generator earlier, so they've been working on the last. We're going to open the door and then get out of here. Do you understand me?"

For a moment, she felt as though he was lecturing her like a child. Resisting the urge to just punch him in the crotch, Meg simply nodded. "I don't think I—"

"Shh."

This bastard.

Glaring at him, she then turned her blue eyes forward and was quick to recognize the red glare of the dot from before, the working generator in the same location as before and glowing brightly.

Wait…did this guy watch her get taken and then decided to risk his skin to rescue her?

At this thought, a howl sudden filled the air. It wasn't a lonely howl, or a howl for the hunt. It was a howl of progress and succession. As she looked for the source, the male suddenly pulled her along towards the glowing dot. Nearly tripping in the process, Meg was glad she caught herself, or she would have probably faceplanted into the ground.

A large, grey door was sitting in the brick wall that surrounded this forest. This hellhole. He let go of her to race for the door, immediately grabbing at the rusted handle and tugging it down fiercely. As this happened, they heard the clinking of the door attempting to open and for a moment, Meg felt more on alert than ever before.

Meg slowly looked around, moving closer to the door to avoid herself being suddenly snatched up. Two familiar faces sprinted towards her and the mysterious male. As soon as she saw them, she heard the door open right behind her.

"Meg, you're okay!" Dwight smiled nervously, looking her over once and then cringing immediately. Obviously, she didn't look or feel okay, but she guessed that being okay meant "alive" now-a-days.

 _Ba-thump._

Without another word, they all turned and sprinted through the open door with Claudette following the new face and Dwight right beside Meg, holding her hand in case she fell. Keeping her fingers knitted within his, she watched them all dart away from the place.

Curiously, Meg glanced over her shoulder and caught the sight of the masculine beast standing right there. He didn't even chase them. Instead, seeing Meg's gaze, he put up his hand and waved.

It took Meg no time to speed up to the front of the group, dragging Dwight with her as they raced for freedom.

"We were lucky to find you, Jake."

Said man looked up, glancing over Claudette for a moment before shrugging. "I guess. I live out around these woods, so it's natural for me to pack food."

As they sat around the crudely made campfire, eating various plant-life and some hunted foul, Claudette tended to the open shoulder of Meg who found it hard to keep chewing.

Dwight sighed, breaking silence after a little while. "It's not over, is it?"

Claudette blinked, looking up. "W…What do you mean? We escaped, right?"

Even Meg understood, wiping a thumb along her lower lip to wipe any saliva away. "This doesn't feel like we made it. It feels like a save point in a video game, but…"

"O-Oh…" The blogger twiddled her thumbs for a moment before finally stitching up Meg's shoulder properly. "I…I guess you're right."

Meg looked up, frowning heavily. "What do we do? Sit around forever like sitting ducks?"

Jake shook his head, sitting down properly to cook another skinned animal again. "No. We're going to continue. We're going to continue on and fight for our lives. We're no longer home. We're… This is different."

The group fell silent, all of them staring at the fire before falling asleep one by one.

 _This was only the beginning of a personal level in Hell._

 _The Entity will have you._

 _You are His._

 _Forever._


	3. Sleep Deprived

Each member slept heavily, gradually trading off the job of who would stay awake to make sure no one died. Claudette was the most nervous and high on adrenaline, leaving her the first to take watch to the point it was almost three hours later from when everyone fell to sleep. Meg was last as she was the most injured and she currently watched the skyline.

Not a single glimpse or glimmer of gold or orange was attempting to shine over the treetops. The night remained solid in the sky. Nothing was changing aside from the off-and-on breeze that rustled the bushes and trees all around. Her shoulder no longer burned but there was a type of phantom pain that invaded her arm, the pain traveling down to her fingertips and into the base of her throat.

With a shudder against the cold, she waited for the others to wake up and prayed a little that the sun would rise. Meg wasn't religious, but by God she might have become one after this horror bullshit.

Jake woke up first. His watch had taken after Claudette's but Meg always put him in the category of "early riser." The man seemed to have a very routine life and quite healthy as he had enough energy from day to night. Or, maybe just around 12 hours with no sunlight depicting the hour.

"Hey." Meg spoke, voice scratchy but light as her stomach fidgeted around. "Teach me how to hunt." Jake looked up from the floor of the dirt pathway, quickly raising a thick eyebrow at her. Meg stood her ground as she sat in place, digging her heels slowly into the earthy floor. Even if she was tired, this didn't mean that she still didn't have a foul temper when it came to being placed beneath someone.

Jake slowly spoke as he got up to his knees and then his feet. "Okay. But it's not easy."

"Neither is running away from a killer."

Tension grew with Meg's sharp tongue but she knew she had a point. She watched Jake's cool demeanor waver for a second and then flutter away like a shaky breath. "Alright, you have a point. But catching is different than running. Let's wait until they wake up before we go anywhere. It's best to go in a group."

Slowly, the blond nodded, soon moving to bounce her heel into the dirt anxiously. "So," she began. "Why are you so good at handling the woods? You one with nature or something?"

Honestly, she hadn't expected him to answer so coolly. "I lived in the woods for several years. I know how to hunt for my own food if I don't feel like going 15 minutes down the road in the old jeep I have. The transmission is going out, so I didn't feel like risking the drive. Sure, there were things I bought online, but I have no mailbox and no delivery guy wants to go down to a road that has no cellphone service anymore."

Slowly, Jake moved to sit down next to her, arms propping up on his knees. "I took a morning walk one day, up towards the mountains to get some cool air. I didn't get very far, I guess." With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck, as if feeling an old ache. Meg could guess as to what happened.

"How long have you been here?"

He shrugged. "About as long as you guys have been."

That made no sense. Jake looked like a very hardy man, so how was he knocked out in the morning and woke up around the time she did? Meg knew she had been knocked out in the evening, at least.

"What's on your mind?" Meg looked up at his words, quickly staring at the man's dark eyes that seemed to just be as open as the sky itself. Regardless, she shrugged and then looked to the sleeping duo.

"It's… All of this is strange. So strange. I want to know how we all got here. I understand one of us, but… four of us? What the hell is this guy doing in his free time? It just doesn't make sense. And this stupid night time! It's been easily about 8 hours of running around like fucking monkeys and even more with sleep! What the fu-!"

Jake slammed a hand over the now-boiling-with-rage blonde's mouth and had it not been for the fact there were two people sleeping, she would've bitten the shit out of his hand, glove or no glove.

"I understand," he replied, his voice smooth and lower than before to ease anyone who was almost awake back to sleep. "It's all abnormal, but for now we have no answers. …It'll eventually be okay. Right now, we're okay. We're not starving and we're not alone. I know you can think of many other things and problems, but… We just have to look at the cup half full. Okay?"

With how gentle he was, it caused Meg to breathe in through her nose and then slowly sigh, nodding as she swore she felt weight under her eyes. In silence, both returned to how they were originally, hands-off and sitting while facing towards the small fire. It was dwindling down slowly, allowing embers to shiver and barely flicker like hungry fingers for french fries. As she thought about this, the killer's face popped up in her mind and she quickly shuddered.

As they waited in the crackling, cool silence, Meg found herself halfway between napping and simply staring off into space. Giving up one staying awake, the tired female let herself take a nap with her chin in her hands. With hopeful thoughts, she felt herself become surrounded by a comfortable darkness of her own mind.

After some time, she felt herself wake up a bit, unable to feel the heat of the fireplace any longer. Did it go out? Wait, wasn't someone supposed to be tending to the fire? Her blue eyes snapped open wide and she looked around, expecting to see everyone asleep and the fire dead.

"What..the fuck is this!?" Meg was now on her feet, her eyes scanning the red webbing that stretched all the way around her, like a box that was coated with a spider's silk. Fear swam up all the way from her toes to her throat, causing any sound to come out as a wheeze. What the hell was this? Was this a nightmare? A vision? Goosebumps crawled all the way up her spine and she could quickly moved to rub her arms as she spun around, making sure to eye the whole room. If it could even be called that. She couldn't even see the damn corners or even the floor!

She clutched her head, pulling at her hair from their braided stance. "Come on, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up! It's...it's just a nightmare. That's all this is. Come on, Meg, _come on!_ " A sound reached her ears, causing her to look up and nearly pop her neck. It sounded like a plucked string, like what you would do to a guitar or even a string attached to two different items.

On and on this stupid sound went until Meg finally spun around, holding her ears in hopes of drowning it out. "Shut up!"

An echo of her shout stitched fear into her core and she could feel goosebumps rising up on her skin. The sound from before was no longer pulling at her eardrums and sinking its teeth into the back of her scalp. But even now, it felt as though small fingertips were roaming along her hairline, causing the hair on the back of her neck to bristle like a cat's. In return of the silence, she slowly pulled her hands away from her ears and took a look around once more, eyeing everything she could feast her eyes on, even if she didn't want to look.

An array of dangling cards sat above her head, swaying in a breeze she couldn't feel on her skin. Meg narrowed her eyes, moving forward towards it with a raised eyebrow.

pThe diamond-shaped cards spun around slowly and she eyed different pictures, marked messily in ink. Slowly, Meg moved on her tip toes, hands quickly grabbing onto the nearest one. Bringing down the cardboard piece, she flipped it around, looking at the artwork.

 _Flashlightb_

 _Uncommon Item_

 _5 seconds of use_

 _"Most of the battery life was wastefully used by the previous owner."_

Meg blinked, flipping it around to look at the artwork of the flashlight. She quickly cringed as a corner nicked at her fingertip, causing her forefinger to bleed immediately, but she certainly wouldn't call it drastic. The cardboard item between her fingers quickly grew warm, to the point she wondered if it would start burning her hand and the skin. What _really_ made her nearly drop the item was once it started shifting right up against her palm from rough paper to a much more sturdy piece of equipment. Edges glowing red soon faded into a metallic black and the cool feeling embraced her hand seconds after the female registered what was happening before her eyes.

"How the fuck did this...just work!?" Staring at the item in her hands with furrowed eyebrows, she then looked at her bleeding forefinger, wondering what in fuck's name was going on. Meg looked up, hearing a scuttling sound.

Looking up, she felt her entire being nearly fall to the ground as several eyes stared at her, glowing as red as blood. Pupil-less eyes danced over her skin, causing goosebumps to rise up once again. Meg would've screamed but she couldn't find her voice as she stared at the creature that slowly seemed to suck out her lifeform the longer she watched it.

Oh so slowly, she felt despair and dread catch her innards, squeezing at her throat and dragging her hope down. Meg could barely register that her eyes were rolling into the back of her head before she fell to the ground, flashlight clattering to the cold floor.

A warm feeling dragged itself across her good shoulder, and suddenly she felt alive, awake and bolted upright, screaming in morbid _fear_.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Dwight fall backwards like a broken-winged bird, arms windmilling everywhere. Claudette was a little bit further back, hands up to her mouth while Jake was looking Meg in the eyes, concern showing on his clean-shaven face. His hand was pulled back, clearly the warm feeling that had been on her shoulder only a second ago.

"Meg...?"

She almost didn't register Claudette's voice as she stared through Jake, sweat dripping down the back of her neck and her knuckles white as she gripped the log she had sat on and the item she knew was the flashlight. Those eyes were staying embedded into her skull, watching her and pulling at her heartstrings like the chords to a violin. It was the most ungodly feeling she had ever felt.

As soon as the image faded, she was vaguely aware of Claudette helping Meg clean up with cool water from the nearest stream of water, using her beanie. _It'll dry over the fire_ , she had said. Slowly, the athlete blinked, trying to find her senses as the darker-skinned blogger watched her with worry and...hope.

A warm feeling slowly graced itself over Meg's trembling figure and only once her trembling stopped did she notice she was doing it in the first place. "C...Claude...tte?"

"Oh thank God," she said, clasping her hands together as if to temporarily pray before she turned to look at the boy's who sat by the fireplace. "She's come back to her senses! She's okay!" But she then looked back, worry back on her face. "Aren't you?"

Meg blinked, showing a clueless face.

Dwight wandered over, arms slowly pulling back behind his back nervously. "You...you were having a seizure. You had us all _really_ worried. We didn't know what you were undergoing and we...weren't sure if you had just died or something, or gone into shock." With fumbling hands, he moved to take off his glasses and quickly polish them, lips pinching nervously. He was so nervous he wouldn't even look her in the eyes.

Meg blinked once again and then moved to sit upright, limbs aching from having gripped nothing for so long. Her nails imprints were there on her palm, and clearly having bleed. Slowly, she attempted to finger-comb out her braids, thinking with a bitter frown as she thought back to what had caused it.

Claudette tended to Meg's new scratches the best she could as Meg held the flashlight, courtesy of Jake who happened to see it earlier. After some time of silence and small questioning about where the flashlight came from, Jake cleared his throat and spoke, grabbing everyone's attention. Meg was now standing, but felt even worse after the healing.

"We need to move forward. We can't stay at this camp site forever." Silently, and simultaneously, they all looked around and nodded, agreeing that it was best to go forward. Claudette began to pick up her items, even the wet beanie. Meg was quick to snatch it up and weave her words in before the other could speak. "I doubt you'll wear it right now. Besides, your hands are full. It's the least I can do when you took care of me." Claudette gave a faint smile and a nod before watching Meg fit the flashlight through a belt loop.

Meg joined them once everyone had their things packed, not quite uncomfortable with being last in line. Claudette and Jake stuck together, mainly for Claudette's sake of not wanting to jump out of her skin. Dwight was in front. Despite how much of a geek he was and stuttering every five seconds, he seemed composed up front, keeping an eye out for the rest of them. The blond was always surprised by this.

Finger-combing through the rest of her hair with her left hand while the other held the beanie, she let her hairbands slip onto her wrist. She didn't doubt she'd need them again for something else while going through this night-time stroll. Meg knew they weren't going to look at the forest the same way again after they got through this hell.

None of them spoke, even when the crows managed to make all four jump. Everyone was lost in their own world of thought, sometimes meeting eyes and then looking around nervously. Every creak of a tree branch and whistle of the wind was easily something that could signify a big warning sign of danger. They didn't want to take their chances and just overlook anything small.

"Hey." The other three jumped at the sound of Claudette's voice, no matter how soft it was. "I see something. In the distance." As soon as she pointed, Meg was moving to her tip toes to look over their heads. Jake was so damn tall that he completely blocked her view, no matter where she moved unless she was at his shoulder. With a twitch coming up into her jaw from annoyance, she literally let her chin rest on her broad shoulder. Jake gave her a look, but Meg didn't respond except with the look of annoyance.

Purposefully, he shrugged, enough for her head to go up and then come back down with a painful clip of her teeth. Good Lord, she had never wanted to head-butt someone so bad in her life until then. Instead of actually doing it, she moved to actually look at what Claudette had pointed at and then let her aching jaw open.

Dwight moved to literally clean off his glasses and then put them back on before letting his jaw drop. Again. "Are those...- Is that a...?"

"Cornfield," Jake replied, his fists clenching.

Cornfields stretched for what was probably miles. A muggy fog seemed to make its existence by weaving in and out of the cornstalks. Moving forward, Meg noticed heavy machinery in the distance, coupled with rusted wheelbarrows, old tires that stacked up aplenty and wooden spots where an older town used to be. She put a hand to her chin in thought out of how similar the random wooden spots seemed almost identical to what happened back at the first place. Except, these were wooden and were poorly constructed.

Meg moved up in front. "We might as well investigate. There's nothing else we can do unless we want to remain sitting ducks for eons."

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Jake trying to open his mouth about the situation but she quickly walked forward.

She didn't need to hear Jake's bitching in her ear when they hadn't encountered anything in a good while, excluding the recent scare of...whatever that was.

Claudette cringed and put a sleeve up to her nose. "Ugh! What is that smell?"

Now Meg noticed that they were all attempting to really sniff upward at the air, like animals searching for food. Except, all of them recoiled. The blond coughed and quickly put a hand up to her nose. She honestly wondered if the hair in her nose just curled up into ashes. "Fucking Christ, what the hell is that? Smells like...rotten flesh, or something."/p

Dwight coughed. "I-I don't know, but-"

"It is."

All of them turned to look at Jake and stared. Meg was quickly narrowing her eyes at the dark-haired male.

"And you would know how?"

Jake simply shrugged. "Again, I'm a man of the woods. I see a lot of things and I tend to find corpses of animals all around. You eventually understand the smell like a farmer with chicken manure." Claudette seemed to understand the most and Meg caught sight of it with how brightly that girl's eyes were glowing in understanding. The blond simply rolled her eyes and continued onward, flashlight in hand.

As she stepped into the vicinity, a shudder rolled down her spine, as though she was...fresh; anew. Blinking twice, she glanced down at herself, feeling an ache in her shoulder. With a gentle finger, she peeled at the bandages that Claudette had managed to put on made from scraps of clothing. She wondered if she was still unconscious or seeing things as she poked at her now-healed shoulder. There was no scar even and she was quick to turn around and start pointing at it feverishly.

Dwight blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Does it hurt?" Then he got the memo and Meg watched his jaw drop like Genie's in Aladdin. It was almost humorous.

Eventually, she watched everyone slowly turn to look at her healed up shoulder. It was clearly a phenomenon, but they weren't sure what to say about it. It was healed, but they weren't sure why. Was it from Meg's dreams? Entering a new territory even? Or were they just all unable to see it? But no matter how much Meg dug her nails into the recovered patch of skin, the only thing she could feel was where her nails had dug in.

However, they all simultaneously agreed that it was better to worry about it later. For now, they had to move on before anything negative snuck up on them.

Moving in as a group, Meg couldn't help but feel stones of dread weighing like hell in her stomach while her hand slowly curled around the wet beanie. Judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, she was certain that they felt the same. Licking her lower lip, she glanced skyward and eyed the forever-night sky, admiring the new twinkle of stars. Maybe there was some life to this place after all.

"G…Guys?" Meg blinked and turned her head, eyeing Dwight's outstretched arm and then to his pointed hand. Following the direction with her eyes, she wondered for a split second if she'd regret it.

They all did.

Sitting in the weeds, next to a thin wall of wood, was a generator. Jake, who was the calmest out of all of them, was the first to say the very word they were all thinking.

"Fuck."

Swallowing back her growing fear, the athlete knew that going back was too easy. Way too damn easy. "We have to fix the generators again," she said, turning to look them one by one. Dwight paled heavily as he realized what they were in again and he was soon shaking his head.

"N-no way! Let's just t-try and go back-!"

Claudette tiredly sighed, running a hand over her face. "We have to. I don't know why, but I get this feeling that the way we came through is a bunch of bullshit now. A wall will probably be all the way around and we won't be able to get through." The more she spoke, the more her tears seemed to come through. Meg could hear her voice becoming more clipped. "We won't be able to get through and we'll have to do the generators again, and maybe one of us will die, or- or—"

Slowly, Meg put an arm around the near-sobbing girl, who swallowed back as much as she could, but her glasses still steamed up. Gently, she squeezed her shoulder while Jake breathed in and marched to the generator. Dwight, nervously, shuffled after him after a moment of uncertainty.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Claudette. Okay? We all got this and we can do this as a team. Okay?" She watched Claudette quickly try to compose herself with a series of sniffles and hiccups before she nodded. There was no verbal answer, but Meg didn't expect one. One by one, they had all connected to the single generator.

They all wondered if it would be their last.


	4. Bond

They were moving along, getting through one generator within an easy two minutes. So far, nothing was happening and it was giving Meg the worst goosebumps as they walked around the vicinity. With how hard Dwight was knocking his knees, she was more surprised he hadn't pissed his pants yet.

As she looked him over again after Claudette searched through an old box, he happened to catch her eye. She had to hold back a snicker as his cheeks flushed pink and he looked away, but the moment of amusement was short-lived as Claudette stood, holding a medical kit in her hands now. It was such a bright red that it was easy to tell that it was brand new. Dwight was the only one who questioned it now, as it was here for their benefit.

Claudette grasped it by the cloth hand comfortably before looking around with Jake. "Do you think there's a source for that awful smell? I-I know it's bad…but… Maybe we can find something?"

Jake gave a faint nod as he peered around the obstacles that were strewn about like candy wrappers from a festival. "Possibly. But if we really want to get out of here, there's a possibility we'll have to split up." Meg was immediately against the idea.

"Hell no. We have to stick together, up until it's _crucial_ that we move. If we split up, we might not find each other again except for our screams." The blond folded her arms, expressing that she was going to stand her ground and make her decision just like this. Jake sighed and run his fingers along his forehead.

"Fine."

In thanks, Meg gave a nod before attempting to head off in one direction. Specifically, through the cornfield. Dwight panicked a bit, but eventually ducked down and crawled through the stalks with her and the others.

It was cooler down near the dry soil, causing Meg to raise an eyebrow. "Hey, guys. Isn't it strange how it's colder when crouching than standing?"

Claudette gave a nervous nod. "I…think that means there's a fire going. A…a really big one if we can't see it and it stretches all the way here." Meg could hear her swallow nervously, causing her to look back for a moment to try and console her.

A metallic noise of _thump_ would have caused her to stop first if she hadn't actually smacked into the machine face-first. It hurt like hell too, causing her to immediately groan before she peeled her face off the contraption. She could hear the others trying to hold back their snickers, even though they needed a good laugh to relieve stress.

"Holy _damn_ that hurt like hell," she hissed, rubbing her face and feeling the indentions of the rusty edge on her face. The biologist gave a giggle then offered over the medical kit, gently applying the cold metal on Meg's reddening face.

"Here. We can fix this up. Since you only have one hand, you can sit back for a bit. Okay?" Seeing Claudette's smile was quite comforting, causing her to return it just a bit with a nod before watching them work. It was fairly relaxing and she was able to watch Jake and Dwight work together. They seemed the most mechanically inclined.* (+10xp)

She could see the sweat glinting off of Dwight's forehead and along the underarms of his shirt, proving that he was frightened as he was hardworking. Grease was all the way up to his forearms while Jake kept his at least along his fingers, proving Dwight was probably shaking the whole generator back to life at this point.

Meg would have been able to laugh if she hadn't heard the dreaded drum in her ears.

 _Ba-bump._

Jake wasted no time and grabbed Dwight's stained wrist. "Scatter." Dwight could barely register what was going on before he was tugged up and off into the shadows of the cornfield. Meg and Claudette were only a second behind as they laced fingers together, dirty or not, and darted towards the nearest pair of closets they could find. Sadly, that was all the way outside of the cornfield itself.

Sucking in a deep breath and throwing the beanie up on her own head for a free hand, she increased her grip on Claudette's hand and sprinted, nearly dragging the girl behind her as the heartbeat began to quickly pick up the pace.

As it the heartbeat practically ignited heat throughout the entirety of her body, she grabbed the cold handle of the closet and shoved Claudette inside first and foremost so hard her body nearly rocked it. With a soft hiss of "sorry" she hopped in with her. Wondering how the masked man came to find them again, she protectively wrapped her arms around the blogger and ducked down low with her, feeling her heart beating hard from both the damned murderer's presence _and_ from running. Claudette was having a harder time trying to keep her breath steady as she was no athlete by any means. Hurriedly, Meg began to whisper.

"In and out, breathe in through the nose deeply and out through the mouth, okay?" She let Claudette then bury her face into her shoulder. It also made it easier for Meg to protect her as she knew the other was hardly a fast runner at all.

The athlete soon looked up as the heartbeat viciously slammed into her eardrums, beating so hard through her body she was wondering if the closet was shaking from it. A shadow of a man passed by and a tremor of a chill slid right down her back. That was _not_ who she thought it was. This figure was misshapen, with a face that appeared to be an ungodly mash-up of skin, stretched like taffy.

Closing her eyes tightly, she leaned over her friend, trying to get the bleeding image out of her head. Slowly, oh-so slowly, the shuffling of the bastard's feet began to fade off into the distance, followed by the scraping leaves of corn stalks being pushed. Only when the heartbeat had fully faded into silence did she feel her chest aching from holding her breath.

With little warning, she expelled some dead air and then gasped, causing the blogger to nearly jump out of her skin. "Jesus, Meg…" she sighed before moving to her knees on the closet floor. "Is it…gone?"

The blond nodded and then looked up at the slits of the locker. "Yeah… For now." With gentle hands, she moved to massage Claudette's tense shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. "Let's see if we can find the nearest generator and start it up. Okay? We have to keep going."

The other nodded and moved to stand after another minute. Meg could see that her knees were jelly and she honestly felt the same. As she stood, she realized her feet had decided to lose bloodflow and sleep, causing her to curse as she rolled her ankles. It took them a bit to actually get out and search their surroundings before ducking down low and heading back to the generator they had previously been working on. Like the _Little Engine That Could,_ it sputtered and hummed like a sick bird, despite being rundown. With a nod, they got to it.

"Hey, Meg?"

The blond hummed in response, looking up with a raised eyebrow at the female.

"Uh… Is…is my hat comfy?" Meg blinked for a moment and then went "Oh" as she realized she still had Claudette's hat on. At her reaction, the blogger giggled and focused a bit better on the engine. "I don't mind. You can wear it for a little bit if you want. I assume you don't have headlice or anything dangerous that can be spread."

Meg blinked twice again then faintly grinned before looking back at her work. She quickly changed a few wires, having nearly put red and blue together. _Ain't doing that shit again,_ she thought as she answered Claudette. "Yeah. I don't do a lot of haircare, or anything, but I know I'm free of viruses and flu's. At the very least. Only problem is that it's still a wet hat."

The two shared a quick chuckle over it as the fourth pistol finally began to pump. Seconds after, the whole cornfield lit up like a spectacle, but they couldn't admire it. Instead, they had to move.

Wordlessly, they roped their fingers together just as another spotlight bloomed across a different sector of the blood-fogged land. Claudette happily jumped up and down before pointing. "Hey, hey! They got one! That's…three out of six! I think."

"Five," Meg corrected, giving a faint smile before moving to crouch down a bit and move as swiftly as possible to a hiding corner. This place was a junkyard. This wouldn't be too hard to hide in.

As that very thought graced her head, she found that the putrid smell of burning meat was heavier over here, causing her to wrinkle her nose. She used Claudette's hat as a mask while Claudette threw her arm up over her own nose, seeing as her shirt was rolled up to her elbow. Meg's was not.

"Christ, it smells like complete ass."

"What if it's to keep people away?"

Claudette had a point, causing Meg to only nod before looking at—

"Now what the fuck is _that?"_ She nodded in the direction of a large contraption remained, buried in the ground. Meg wasn't sure if it was a truck, scrap metal, or a machine that had been totaled looooong ago. Claudette followed, despite being much more cautious than her companion. It just wasn't right to just investigate everything after seeing numerous bear traps.

Meg, on the other hand, knew this guy wasn't laying out bear traps. He probably did something special, but she didn't want to know. The thought sent chills down her spine as they both trudged up the metallic slope, both being careful to gently go heel-to-toe to not thump around like monkeys. They didn't need to alert anyone to their presence, for fear of meeting up with this new guy.

As soon as they both felt their feet hit the flattened surface, Meg was letting go of her hand to look over the edge. Another ramp was on another side, but they would have to leap over the thin, hip-high wall to do so. Claudette joined her, both of them now keeping an eye on the cornfields from where they were.

"Hey!" The blogger nudged her friend and pointed. "There's a house over there!"

Meg rolled her eyes. "And probably plenty of meathooks along the way." The other shrugged in response.

"It's better than being stuck somewhere and bleeding. There are things we can't explain yet, but…I think we should check out the house." She turned to step back down towards the ground, but tripped a bit, causing Meg to nearly taste her heart as it jumped so high. She grabbed Claudette's wrist fiercely.

"Whoa, careful!" A sheepish smile creeped onto Claudette's face before she glanced down, adjusting her glasses with a free hand.

"S-Sorry. I guess I wasn't looking—Hey, there's a diary here."

Meg scoffed. "Is that what you tripped over?" She rolled her eyes at the nod of response. "Jeez, and I thought people tripping over rocks were clumsy!"

Claudette hit her in the shoulder playfully before moving to pick it up. "Benedict Baker?" Both girls eyed the leather journal that seemed to be only worn along the corners and the spine before Meg snorted.

"What? You going to actually read it? It's just some old diary! There's nothing much about it at all."

"Yeah, but…" Claudette stood up with it in her hands. "What's a _diary_ doing all the way out here?"

At that, Meg didn't have an answer at all. She did think on it, biting her lower lip. Without warning, they looked each other in the eyes and then found the answer.

 _"There have been other people here besides us!"_

Ecstatically, they moved to flip open the diary vigorously, hoping to look at the first journal entry. They didn't get to it as they heard a damned chainsaw rev in the distance. Both girls felt their faces become a ghostly shade of white before Meg squatted up into a corner and listened to the machine grow closer.

"It's getting close really fast!" Claudette said, ducking down and keeping her voice to a loud whisper so they could hear themselves over the chainsaw. Meg nodded. As she began to think of a way out, she felt Claudette reaching for her hand again, not wanting to separate again and be alone without the athlete providing support. The blond smile and firmly enclosed her hand with Claudette's, providing comfort to the both of them.

With that in mind, they waited as the chainsaw stopped but the heartbeat ate away at their souls.

* * *

Dwight and Jake watched the generator back in the cornfield shine like a bright beacon, filling them both with temporary hope. Dwight would have rejoiced at the success of the girls, but Jake was grabbing his shoulder to turn him around.

"We have to go." Nervously, the male nodded and then followed after the hardy fellow, keeping his head as low as he could without crouching into shrubs. Or a wall. That already happened with Meg though, so maybe he'd be lucky. Then again, when was he?

As he thought this, he moved to adjust his glasses with a shaky hand. Dwight wasn't sure how much time they had before they were discovered by the masked man, but with how confident Jake was, he wondered if they would even be found at all.

 _Ba-thump._

In seconds, Jake grabbed Dwight by the back of his shirt and tugged him down so fast the flunky felt his glasses fall off and into the tall grass. Suddenly, the world grew blurry as he heard the heartbeat grow louder and closer. With how Jake was pressed to him, he could smell pine and sweat with such musk that he probably would have been ten miles away from Jake had they not met each other already.

A red patch of light was easy to see with how bright it was as the crunching of grass beneath heavy feet resonated in his ear canals. The light was just past the debris they were hiding behind, facing just a little off to the side from where they were. It was a god-awful sound and sight as he noticed that that single space of red was _its_ eyesight. He figured everyone else could see it, without a doubt. How can you not!

The beast looked around, growling and sniffing the air dangerously close to them and Dwight would have whimpered. He knew better though, even though he was shaking so hard he figured he was going to get osteoporosis.

As he and Jake stood still, he heard a soft clicking noise before they both flinched. Jake brought a shoulder up to his ear to block out the sound of the revving chainsaw while Dwight threw his fingers as discreetly as possible over his ears. It was a roar of hate and it clearly was a creature that lacked discrimination. Just as fast as it had come around, it left with a speed that caused Jake to tense and faintly tremble in awe. Dwight didn't know. All he could feel was this man _tremble_ from the hellish creature that sped off into the night.

With a quivering breath, Dwight took his fingers away from his ears, feeling Jake's nearby weight slowly turn to him. Jake tensed a bit more and Dwight heard him take in a sharp breath. "W-whoa. Hey, take it easy. He's gone now."

Another tremble shook Dwight's whole body and with equally-quaking fingers, he felt his face. His skin was wet from warm tears of defeat and strife. Feeling despair way on him like death itself, Dwight threw his hands over his face and did what no man wanted to do in front of another.

He sobbed.

"All I wanted was a job!" he whimpered, hiccupping in two seconds flat of crying. Jake didn't know what to say, but let him continue. "I wanted an okay life, I wanted to date the girl down the road, and I wanted to even go to college! I wanted to be someone my parents would be p-proud of. I wanted to be okay!" He shivered. "Just okay! I w-wanted to be an engineer o-or even a c-coach! Why can't I do anything good? Why am I even here when I've never done anything enough for even myself or my parents!"

Dwight sobbed into his hands, weeping so hard that he was getting hiccups every three seconds of talking. He hated this. He hated all of it. He just wanted to go home or even just live on the streets anymore. He knew he was a shitty excuse of a person, but he tried. He really did!

The gentle clasp of Jake's hand on his shoulder caused him to jump and almost cry harder if he hadn't been already. Slowly, Jake's posture changed and he moved to sit by Dwight and simply squeeze his shoulder.

"Yeah… I feel the same way. I never really got a job either. Not the one my parents wanted." He glanced off to the side, listening and watching a pair of crows sit on a boulder. Dwight peered up at him, despite his blurry vision as he sniffed and wiped at his face.

"R…Really? You…you too?"

Jake nodded. "I…dropped out of highschool." Dwight blinked twice and rubbed at his eyes furiously, sniffling as he tried to regain his composure.

"I guess…we've all had it rough. I'm sorry I…"

They soon sat in mutual silence, feeling for each other's problems. They didn't need to speak to understand. Dwight was so tired but their adventure through this maze of maize **(-writer gets hit for pun-** **)** was only just beginning. After a little while, Dwight felt Jake shifting around before he felt the cold tips of his glasses slither just along his temples and hook along his ears.

"My g-glasses…!"

"They weren't very far. Big guy almost stepped on one of the lenses but he missed by a centimeter." Dwight shuddered, having not seen how massive the guy was, but got a good estimate.

"T-these are prescription glasses, too!"

Jake chuckled and offered a helping hand, causing Dwight's chest to tighten. As they grasped hands and felt their blood flowing through their veins, the geek wondered if the kindness in these people was fate, or fake.

In silence, they began to move through the place, slipping into an old house to check out the rubbish and other garbage that could lead them to victory.

* * *

 ***I'm being a dork, don't mind me and my exp.**


	5. Nea

**(To all of those who asked me if they will meet the new survivors and killers. . .)**

Meg was still holding onto Claudette's hand as they listened to the roar of the chainsaw disappear, but they were still in range enough to hear the heartbeat. They kept going. Ignoring it to the best of her ability, she carefully kept her back curved to try and tuck down lower into the tall grass as Claudette kept the diary in her free hand. All they had to do was find the nearest generator.

"Hey, Meg, what's that?" Said female looked to where Claudette was pointing and quickly became interested as she moved forward with her to inspect it.

"Oh, it's a chest! Go ahead and open it, Claudette."

Claudette hesitated, looking uncertain until Meg let go of her hand to push open the chest. Deciding to let Claudette's nerves rest, the blond stuck her hands into the darkened bottom of the chest, a little nervous as to why it was so goddamn dark.

 _Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

"M-Meg!"

The blond looked up, feeling her heartbeat slamming into her chest. She dug her heels into the ground to lift herself up, but panic consumed her entire gut as she couldn't get her hands out. Her hands wouldn't be relinquished by this gaping box and it was scaring the hell out of her as the heartbeat grew louder. She could hear its boots.

Trying to keep her breath even, she looked to Claudette with wide eyes, but she was sure the other's was wider. "Go, go!" Claudette hesitated, but that single second of it was something that Meg would never forget.

He came around the corner, this hulking man with a sledgehammer that could knock out a boxing champion's teeth in one swing. In his other hand was the dreaded engine that had yet to roar again. Its teeth were coated in rusted red and just looking at it caused both female's blood to go cold.

Claudette hadn't moved. Meg sucked in a useless breath and screamed sharply. _"GO!"_

The rev of the engine started as soon as Claudette began to take off towards the cornfield, hoping to shake him off. Meg tugged at her missing hands, feeling sweat drip down her back as her fingers connected with…something. It was cold and metallic, almost beautifully chilling against her hot skin before the force in her heels caused her to tumble back into the engine-revving bastard. He stepped forward as she flew back, and Meg cringed as his footing embedded into her ribcage, feeling his build sway up above. She was terrified he'd dig the chainsaw straight into her gut and out of fear, she shut her eyes to avoid seeing pain coming her way.

Instead of feeling something pierce her gut, Meg heard the beast of a man hit the ground with an ungodly ripping sound following, as the engine had continued to rev. Without wasting time as warmth brushed all the way up her left arm, she scrambled to get out from his gangly legs before hightailing it as fast as she could.

A phantom lick of pain shot through her previously wounded shoulder, causing her to wince and hold the skin there as she tore off through the cornfields, the cold metal grazing the heated spot. There was a house not too far from here, and that was her destination as of right now. Nothing else was in mind. Just getting there and hopefully finding a locker to dive into without him noticing. The engine had long died down, but she didn't risk looking back to see him. No way in hell.

Now that Claudette was gone, and both girls were alone, Meg was cursing herself under her breath. It was dangerous to be alone and to be in a group. The heartbeat was a helpful notification that danger was near, but...

The chest really had pissed her off. As the heartbeat died down, she glared down at the toolbox that was now heavily swinging around between her fingers. Damn thing cost them both time, and now they were separated. Why wouldn't the box let her go? It was damned stupid and she wanted to throw the nearest thing off into the distance, but she couldn't. There was no time for that.

Breathing heavily through her teeth, she listened for the heartbeat as she eyed the generators that were lit. The smell of old corn and oil was causing her nose to wrinkle, but there was something else. As she turned a little more, she flinched away, feeling bile attempt to rise into her throat as she watched the bodies of cattle and sow swing amongst the trees. Ribcages were wide open, peeled to show off the missing gizzards and gut whilst blood soaked the ground below. Probably enough for 20 Satanic rituals. The stench was terrible, clinging to the inside of her nostrils as she observed the sacrificial offerings. What could they have even been used for?

With goosebumps rising on her flesh, Meg couldn't help but stare at the horror as bile rose further into the back of her throat. Quickly, she swallowed with whatever saliva she had left before avoiding the fire that was causing tremors to involuntarily course through her. What was this place…?

The generator was a sight for sore eyes, but the athlete was beginning to loathe the machines. They were causing grief and fear in all of them, and providing comfort to those who roamed. Hopefully, the book that Claudette now possessed would tell them all something.

If they survived.

With quaking fingers, she began to go through with fixing the broken generator, being careful to not mismatch wires and mistake gas pipes for oil. This one was hard to pry and God bless, she had a toolbox right at her side. What she had gotten from within the chest. Meg snorted and wrenched a crooked bolt out.

"I guess fate is being a real bitch. Made me lose a friend, but I got a damn toolbox instead. Strictly for this gen, I guess." It had been a while since she had found time to herself like this. It was deathly quiet, save for the crackling of the smoking fire that she deemed worthy of sacrificing many virgins. Or summoning the apocalypse, one of the two. As she used all of her muscles in her arms to screw things on, off and back in place, she began to think.

The place was a giant mill. A farm. It was abandoned, shown by rot and dust that was even visible on the goddamn corn. Guess there was no wind. It was brighter too, thanks to the lighting system of cult-like fires. That hulking figure had her bothered, though. His face was torn, as though he had been in many accidents and fires all at once. His sledgehammer could pry open metal doors, she guessed and that chainsaw was…well, for heavy-duty sawing.

She almost hit herself as she imagined the teeth digging through a backbone. That hook was enough for her to be worried about pain, so she couldn't imagine a goddamn chainsaw.

Meg sighed, feeling complications weighing on her body and her fingers. With a breath, she threw a good portion of her weight into the last pipe of the generator, causing the pistons to practically leap out of their sockets with astonishing velocity. Lighting up like a beacon, she felt a little hope spread through her body as the light was cast.

It went away as she heard a scream in the distance. A scream that made all of her hairs stand on end.

"Claudette!" Meg picked up the toolbox with greasy fingers and tore off, double-checking the clasp so it wouldn't open and let the tools spill everywhere. That would be a disaster she didn't need while her friend's life was on the line. Her athletic footing let her sail over the tires, the palettes and around the standing walls. Only when she heard the heartbeat and felt her side cramping did she even feel the urge to stop and duck down to catch her breath.

 _Come on, you stupid beast, move on already!_ And either that asshole was deaf from his chainsaw, or something else, because he was trudging his way through the cornfield, away from the herbalist. At this thought, she wondered why. Why would this guy move away from the screaming people?

Meg finally guessed that he was deaf and moved on as the heartbeat faded, but she was experiencing a sharp pain in her left side. "Fuck muscles," she cursed, wrapping an arm around her side temporarily. "They sprain, they pull, they rot, and they're a pain in the ass."

Says the athlete, but she ignored the irony as she crouched her way through the tall grass, behind stacked machinery and around tossed tires. The burning smell of corpses and blood was still causing her to cringe every once in a while if she took in a deep breathe. It was hell after running.

Meg scanned the area as best as she could, feeling the grease drying and caking under her nails while sweat beaded down her face. She worried about none of it as she spun around, trying to find Claudette. Where was she?

"Meg!" Said female jumped straight out of her skin as she spun around, nearly nailing Dwight in the face with her toolbox. The boy fell back into the woodsman, who helped him stand back up again.

"W-whoa! Hi to you t-too!"

Meg blinked and then frowned, keeping the toolbox in front of her as she tried to breathe. "Don't fucking scare me like that! Where's Claudette?" As she asked, Jake was surveying the area and then darting off to one area. They both turned to watch him run before following. Dwight decided to stay close to Meg as she was so out of breath, but it gave them both time to look up and feel fear.

A darkened swarm caught their attention, spinning amongst the clouds like a tornado before a darkened tunnel stretched towards the ground. Both got the hint and sprinted towards the area on shaky knees, with Jake easily sprinting on ahead.

"Hey, Meg," Dwight panted. "Why do you have Claudette's hat?"

"Long story," she clipped, feeling her own breath becoming short in her chest. The two rounded around a nearby hill and darted up. Even from the bottom, Meg could see the meat hook and all the hair on the back of her neck were raised up again. The darkness was shifting down towards this very spot and she could see Jake moving so fast he even almost tripped.

An ominous wail sent chills up her spine as she clambered up the hill, only to stare in horror at the appendages surrounding Claudette. She had seen them before, but she couldn't recall where. Her mind went numb as the bloodied appendages closed around, like the legs of a spider she never wanted to meet.

Jake was at the front, reaching up to grab Claudette up and off the hook. A sickening crack could be heard and Meg saw Jake flinch backward.

"No…" Meg felt the tears come fast as she watched her friend's body become limp. "Claudette, no!" She sprinted forward as the body was moved upward, a blood-splattered Jake the only one to bring her back away from the sharp legs. _"CLAUDETTE!"_

Never before had she struggled this hard, save for running away from these killers. Jake could barely keep a hold on her as she felt herself losing it, screaming in agony at the loss. She kicked hard and sobbed out loud until Jake forced her around to let her cry in his jacket. As her sobs became muffled while the darkness dissipated, she could hear Dwight whimpering.

As Jake's gloved hand gently pet along her back, she could hear him whispering. "We have to go, okay? We can't stay, we have to go. There's nothing we can do right now."

She was almost unable to register the chainsaw that was coming near quickly. Meg felt her feet move with a plastic grace as Jake pulled her close to help her run. Dwight, however, was the first to leap off the edge of the lump of land to get close to the bottom of it and press himself up against it. It was clear he was trying to hide and Jake was quick to follow.

Meg attempted to soften her sobs as they both took to take cover behind the nearest tall patch of grass. As Jake pulled her into him, she resorted to trying to breathe and sniff, keeping her fingers curled into fists. She could feel her nails digging into her palms like hell wouldn't have it as the chainsaw came swiftly closer. Almost to the point that Dwight leaped from his usual hiding spot. In fact, in a few seconds, he did and practically rolled into Meg and Jake. Jake gave him a look but said nothing as he curled up right with the other two.

Slowly, the athlete took the purple beanie off her head, holding the damp item close to her face. With her face warm from recent running and crying, the female kept the cool cloth to her face, letting herself silently cry into it. The chainsaw came extremely close, and as fear gripped her gut again, Meg also felt an extreme amount of anger swell up in her stomach.

The nasty bastard stumbled close and Meg felt fear even clench at her throat, stopping her from making all noise. Watching him lift the hammer caused her muscles to cease, and with Jake's grip tightening around her, she knew he was feeling the same emotions, even more so as the weapon swung down.

Dwight's cry of pain as she heard his spine and ribs crack caused Meg to move. Tearing herself out of Jake's grip, she tore the flashlight off the loop of her belt and stabbed the butt of it into the lumbering attacker's eye. A shrill roar of pain echoed into the air, the heat of his breath licking up her forearm. She stabbed the flashlight as best as she could, standing well on the tips of her toes to meet his height and drive it in.

The creature tore away with a clipped sob, grasping at the source of pain in its left eye as it dropped its weapons and curled away. Jake and Dwight took this opportunity of Meg's sudden brashness to tear off, Jake quickly grabbing her arm before she decided to brawl with this monster.

Reluctantly, Meg followed as Jake nearly pulled her arm out of the socket. In her right hand was Claudette's beanie, something she would hold onto with such vigor that she knew it'd be almost impossible to let go of it. Dwight limped away and quickly thrusted himself into the nearest locker, the metallic clang a newfound sound of safety that raised the hair upon the back of her neck.

Up above, she could see the grey sky now suddenly going head-to-head with swirling dust of red, like blood spilling into the Jamaican sea. It was ruining the color she had grown so accustomed to, making her feel as though she would never be safe again. She also figured that Jake would leave Dwight behind, since the man was much more of a loner than what she had ever wanted, but as Dwight hid and Jake moved, she found herself wrapped up in his arms again and pulled against a nearby wall. Her face was quickly smothered by a warm jacket, and she accepted it with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Tears came roaring back up into her eyes again as the heartbeat throbbed in her chest, and even from Jake's. They sat and waited in the tall grass, staying surrounded by only two walls; a corner.

Gradually, the sound faded away and as she tilted her head a bit, she watched the wall of flesh stumble away with both weapons in his hands. As the sound died off, leaving a ring in the pits of the blond's ears, she could hear the faint sound of a sobbing Dwight. Jake's grip tightened around her and for a solid minute, they sat still, grieving.

Jake fidgeted, letting Meg know that he was just antsy to get moving, to get out before they became like Claudette. Even when she wasn't ready to go, Meg pulled a breath of air into her lungs before pulling away, hoping to quietly and, as gently as possible, lure Dwight out of his comfort zone.

"Dwight…?" She made sure to put on a motherly tone so he wouldn't scream like a wuss. Luckily, he only whimpered and gradually poked his head out. His face was wet and tears fogged up by the heat of his recent sobs.

"Is…is it gone?" With his tie, he began to rub at his eyes from beneath his glasses, sniffling lightly before letting his eyes follow Meg's pointed finger. He sagged in relief and stumbled out, looking much more nervous than before.

Jake spoke before they could contemplate any longer. "We need to find a generator. We have about two done. Maybe three. I've lost count by this point. But we're going to need to work harder than ever if we want to get out." Meg and Dwight looked to each other, and Meg could see uncertainty in his eyes, a look that sent chills down her spine. She frowned and spoke as softly as she could.

"Dwight, we need you for this. If you go off on your own or do anything stupid, I swear to God, I'll shove those glasses up your urethra." With her quiet but aggressive tone, the male squeaked and crossed his knees together, bumping them so hard that Jake could hear the kneecaps clip. Both men looked uneasy at her threat, but she didn't care. She didn't need any fuckery right now.

Quietly, she began to move, crouching a bit to avoid being seen. Slowly, the other two followed, keeping their eyes open for any generators, or anything unusual.

It was quiet, save for the crows that occasionally made Dwight nearly defecate his pants. Meg realized that it was only amusing once to watch a scared man become scared more than once. Now, she felt for him and his paranoia.

Slowly, she fell back and moved to join up with Dwight, patting his shoulder firmly and giving it a reassuring squeeze before eyeing the tree from before. That tree with butchered livestock. With how hard she had been crying, she could barely breathe in the scent, and she didn't seem to be the only one. With a grateful appearance smoothing across Jake's usual rigid features, he was the first to see the faintly humming generator and walked to it.

This was the generator she had gotten to before she had heard Claudette. Feeling her heart ache, she moved over to help, her mind elsewhere as she attempted to focus, Claudette's hat being placed on her head.

The not-so-simple process of fixing the generator was becoming tedious by the second. Wire to wire, pipe to pipe… Old oil was spreading fast up to their elbows and it quickly got on Dwight's face as he went to wipe his forehead with his rest and smeared the sticky substance in a direct line on his skin. Comically, as he realized this he said, "Well, I guess this makes me Simba."

Meg, in need of something light-hearted, couldn't help but snort with a short laugh, causing even Dwight to smile a bit. Jake, in return, rolled his eyes but commented nothing negative about the situation.

Up until an explosion echoed from Dwight's side of the generator, just moments away from getting the fourth pistol working. All of them jumped and Dwight was nearly in tears from the time the explosion happened and to the time they looked to him.

Meg understood how this felt, and she was quick to swoop back into the sputtering electric and dust, working hard to get it back up to where they had been. Reaching her hands through the engine to get to the opposite side, Dwight's side, she put the two misshapen wires together with a painful twist in her wrists. Relief flooded through the whole area as the light sprang alive, glowing yellow and white.

For a second, she marveled at the spotlight before getting up and motioning for them all to get moving. With her nails, she attempted to adjust the beanie on her head and kept going, trying to refrain from dirtying the fabric.

A shaking hand gripped hers halfway along through their adventure to get moving, and without turning around, she gripped the poor boy's hand firmly. His cold fingers were quaking like a leaf on the wind and she continued to try and reassure him as they went along.

"Hey." Jake's voice caused them all to jump before he pointed to the far-off light that glittered red through the bushes.

Dwight stuttered. "Is…is it open?" Meg wasted no time as she grabbed both of their wrists and began to stealthily book it over to the door, ducking down with them here and there and continuing on. Jake wanted to go against what she wanted but he had no time to override her mind with his words as she darted up towards the door, grabbed the level, and yanked it down hard. It bumped down for a moment before a hum of noise blossomed from the base of the door.

Dwight's worst fear also interfered as the heartbeat started only a few seconds after the door was slowly peeling apart.

 _Ba-thump._

"I-It's coming! It's coming!"

"Hide!" Jake grabbed both Dwight and Meg by the backs of their shirt and ducked down fast, causing Meg to flail and quietly seethe at him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!? It's almost done, give me a little more time!"

Dwight quietly stuttered. "J-just…wait for him to pass. He won't look for us over here if he thinks we left." Meg really didn't want to wait around, but as the heartbeat grew louder within the canals of her ears, she decided that she would simply huff and listen instead of putting them all in danger.

With baited breath, they all waited and Meg could practically feel the tension crawling on the roof of her mouth when she breathed. She watched Dwight tense up at the shoulders, which went directly to the tops of his ears before he put a hand over his mouth. It appeared he didn't want to breathe too loudly and was forcing himself to swallow his fear.

Meg didn't know that he was watching the red light peering in the direction they were, just beside the metal doors. They sat and waited. It felt like ages as Meg felt her knees cramping and sweat rolling down her back. It was agonizing.

The athlete waited, watching Jake's brows furrow in confusion while Dwight concentrated on the area in front of him. Hell, she nearly shit her pants as the geek suddenly sprung to life, heartbeats hammering in their chests, and pulled down the lever again.

"D-Dwight!?" Jake stuttered just enough to surprise Meg and indicate how scared even ihe/i was. He also got to his feet, furthermore shocking Meg before he rounded the corner and moved to protect Dwight just as the engine of a chainsaw revved not too far away. The danger was so close, Meg was feeling a prickling sensation on the back of her head, as if it were her conscious going, "You morons, get down and hide!"

Meg brought in a quick breath and stood up as well, sprinting away from her hiding spot as that disfigured face showed up once again. With quaking fingers, she gripped the hat, forgetting they were greasy as her fear came back in her sternum. That beast was coming fast and she had to get him off of her friends.

The thought surprised her as she dived to the side, feeling a sense of numbness gathering in her arms and legs. Were Dwight and Jake really…her friends now? She guessed so, since she was now risking her life to keep them safe. As she had previously anticipated, he veered off to one side, trying to hit her instead of the other two on the lever.

With adrenaline and heartbeat in her ears, she could barely hear the "ka-chunk" of the metal door opening with a rusty squeal. As the man moved to turn and start up his engine again, Meg was automatically on her feet, diving as fast as she could out of the door as tears filled her eyes again.

 _Claudette…I'm so sorry…_

* * *

None of them turned to look back. They couldn't. Would that thing catch them if they did? Meg couldn't, not wanting to remember her friend had perished in the claws of Hell.

Slowly, they came to a stop, their bodies leaning against rubble as Meg wiped at her face with the back of her arms, sniffing softly. Dwight settled a hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her as they faced a new terrain, with fog as black as night that licked at their shoes.

Jake slowly moved to a pre-started campfire, motioning Meg and Dwight over as well. It was barely glittering red and orange, letting Meg believe that any sort of comfort was impossible. She sighed and wiped at her wet eyes once again before approaching comfortable, setting a hand on Dwight's that remained on her shoulder.

A moment of silence swept over them, but it ended quickly as a voice cut through the silence like a chainsaw through a tree. It startled them all and even caused Meg to jump.

"Who the hell are you three?"

Meg, already antsy, immediately felt the guarded nature from this new woman. "Probably people just like you. Don't get your nose so shit-covered." Dwight quickly got between the two hot-headed ladies, looking nervous.

"W-We're just survivors!" he stuttered, soon quietly addressing her. "Um…who are you? And is this your camp?"

She stood her ground, with her sneakers digging forcibly into the ground. "My name is Nea, scrubs. Nea Karlsson. And if you want to live a little longer, you'll move away from this place. If you can keep up with me, I'll show you a place to hide."

Meg held onto Dwight's hand even more tightly. As a howling moan swept a chill up her spine, she wondered if she would end up choking a bitch.

 **(Yes. Yes they will.)**

 **(AND PRAISE VALHALLA, MY WORK HAS DWINDLED TO WHERE I CAN TYPE. QAQ)**


	6. Dwight's Turn

Meg slowly opened her eyes. There was a weight sitting deep within and behind both orbs, causing her to cringe and try to close her heavy lids again. She felt hungover, even though the only time she had ever had a drink was when her mother accidentally gave her beer instead of cream soda around the age of ten.

With a sigh heaving itself from deep within her chest, the athlete slowly opened her eyes, trying to recall events just from a few hours ago. It was so dark that she wondered if blinking away the sleep would even help at all.

 _Do you want her back?_

She jumped, nearly shooting upright. Quickly, but carefully, she moved to sit upright, feeling the solid ground beneath her fingertips. No grass, no sand or dirt. She wasn't going to figure out why as Claudette's body swung left and right before her, held firmly by the legs of this ungodly spider-beast. Meg cringed.

"Just a nightmare, girl. Just a nightmare." Slowly, she rolled her shoulders, feeling out her soreness until her bicep brushed against a furry creature. In a heartbeat, she looked as to what she touched, praying it was a coat or Claudette's hat. Sadly, she was wrong and ended up quickly standing away from the tarantula.

 _Do you want her back?_

That voice again.

Meg whirled around, doing her best to not let her eyes dance along her friend's corpse. "Where are you!? Come out and fight!"

 _Do you want her back?_

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Then again, she supposed that she could probably get some answers if she was able to get her body back. With pitch blackness surrounding her and Claudette like an open maw, the female began to think. "I…I want her back. But who the hell are you?"

Silence rang after her voice, causing a tremor to glide right up her backbone. There was something very unnerving about this place. A leg twitched, showing off the sharpened point that glistened. It was if moonlight was still pouring in from some unknown place.

In one motion, a leg swung forward, as sharp as a knife. Meg dove to the side, screaming profanities immediately. It was trying to kill her. Then again, there were very few things that weren't trying to kill her.  
Meg quickly moved to get to her feet and bit her bottom lip as pain sheered through her abdomen. Blood was the worst thing she was tasting as she felt it heave itself up from her core. "F…Fuck." The female sighed, wondering if she'd die here. A claw scaled up her back and between her shoulderblades.

"Stop fucking touching me!" she spat.

 _Remember that your fate is not yours. Keep playing. Keep surviving. Keep **losing** for me._

* * *

"Fuck," she hissed, feeling her heavy body weighing more than ever. Did she even want to open her eyes? At this rate, everything she knew now was a goddamn lie of safety and bullshit. With another sigh, she rolled over a bit to get a little more sleep. Or so she hoped.

It felt only five minutes had passed by the time she had laid down again and was now being woken up by Dwight. He looked like a lonely puppy and was shivering from the cold. Tiredly, Meg sighed and moved to sit upright, putting a hand on his head and ruffling his hair. Even though it was a rough gesture, Dwight definitely brightened up a bit more.

As she felt her shoulders relax from the sight of his visibly lifted spirits, she then noticed Nea and Jake were standing, stretching and yawning almost in unison. Looks like no one slept very well.

Meg got to her aching feet, feeling every bump and bruise that was trying to form at the soles, which were usually strong from her past activities. Now, even she was feeling her body screaming in agony as she ached from literal head to toe.

"So, how did you all get here again?"

As Meg felt exasperation rise up in her chest at the question, Jake smoothly answered, casting her a look from the corner of his eyes. Looks like he didn't want them to start a feud.

"We ran here after finding a metal door and six generators to get it to work. We were running away from a man with a chainsaw and a face equivalent to someone from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre." Jake sighed, practically feeling Dwight getting chills in a heartbeat. Poor guy. Meg was wondering how many times he's jumpstarted his own heart.

Nea sighed. "A killer, you say? Weird." She turned around to face them, her arms planting themselves behind her head. "I'm running away from some myself."

Dwight looked like he could've choked on his own heart. "W-Why didn't you tell us!?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

"Because they haven't seen me in a while."

Wait…

Meg felt all blood drain from her face, even catching Jake's skin turning 2x paler than usual. Suddenly, Meg had to give Nea credit for running away from more than one killer by herself, even though she wanted to leave her to dry on one of those meat hooks.

"Two?" she asked, feeling her voice trying to falter. She cleared her throat and began to pull her hair back into braids.

The streetfighter gave a slight nod. "I've only seen one almost the whole time though since I've been here. And I feel like I've been here for two damn days."

"W-Well…y-you might have been. H-How have you been even able to eat?"

Nea blinked and then shrugged. "I don't know, I've just not felt hungry." Jake gave a quick nod. "The same goes for us. With how long we have been here, we haven't eaten within almost two days. How many generators have you gotten?"

A unison sigh of relief flooded the area as she held up three fingers. "Don't even bother trying to help me fix them. I know where to go." For some reason, Meg wondered if that was a lie. If she knew where to go, why was she still here after two days? Even though she had no one else, she figured out that the generators needed to be fixed, but does she know for what?

A hollow wail filled the air and Dwight looked like he was ready to foam at the mouth. Nea jumped to her feet.

"That's her, let's go!"

"HER!?" Dwight's pre-pubescent voice almost made Jake fall over with laughter, unable to help himself as he muffled the sound with his gloved hands. Even Meg almost started snickering while Nea visibly restrained from strangling him.

To ease him into a less panicked state of mind, Meg gently grabbed his hand and lead him along after Nea. Another wail prickled at the back of her scalp, as if she sensed someone breathing hot air behind her. As goosebumps rose on her arms again, she began to wonder what sort of creature could be so…sad.

Jake's pointing hand caught her attention, causing her to look upward. A twinge of fear scurried through her stomach but by this point, it was more of a numbing sensation. She wasn't sure what was fear or worry anymore as she gazed up at an old hospital. A ruined thing it was, with curtains swaying like an old corpse's nightgown. It was see-through, almost angelic if not stained in dirt and other weird substances. Meg didn't want to know.

Dwight's gentle squeeze on her hand brought her back from her thinking process. As she looked forward, she just saw Nea ducking down and away from the wooden door above her. A cellar door. Meg could feel Dwight shaking like a leaf on the wind, forcing her to move slowly to urge him into the basement. Jake also assisted and carefully patted the geek on the back to get him moving. If they didn't…

Slowly, they moved down. The stairs moaned and squeaked beneath each footstep, causing even Jake to flinch while Nea flew down the stairs. She knew why. It wasn't just because she wasn't holding Dwight or leaving them behind, it was because if they all stayed in one spot, the stairs would collapse. The street runner looked up at them all sternly, enough to make Meg's blood boil in irritation, before motioning them all to move faster. With that, she ducked down into a closet.

Meg breathed in then sighed before leaping down the last few stairs, hoping to encourage Dwight to move faster before slipping into the nearest closet, keeping it open for one more person. She watched Jake move to find a spot by himself while Dwight happily took his place right with Meg.

In hopes of soothing the poor boy so he wouldn't shake the closet like a water ride, she sat on the ground and motioned for him to follow, preventing his knees from buckling. Her hand moved to firmly grip at his forearm, hoping to silently tell him that he needed to be as quiet as he could be as the chilling wail came ever closer near the top of the stairs.

Meg held her flashlight steadily, ready to flick it on to blind whoever this "she" was. Was she like a banshee? A ghoul? Maybe even it was that damned, contorted spider? She cringed as an icy prickle kissed her right on the sternum. A fog was seeping through the cracks and Meg watched Dwight shudder, like a cat's back fur standing on end. It would have been comical if they weren't ready to fight for their lives.

What she didn't know was that he was watching this red light that filtered in with the creeping fog, proving that the female was looking their way. Even as he sat, his knees were attempting to buckle nervously as the red light turned away to scan the basement.

Meg slowly pulled herself up and leaned against the door, enough to make Dwight's eyes go from baseballs to saucers in a second. She put a finger to her lips and leaned cautiously, knowing the doors were able to easily swing open at the slightest nudge. The breath of this haggard being was ragged and uneven, as though they had been choked strongly or had screamed since the day they were born.  
Chills had never whispered up her spine faster as she guessed that, whoever she was, had been a patient. If, at least, what she had originally seen was a hospital.

Ever so slowly, the breathing strayed past them once again and Meg found her thumb on the on/off switch of the flashlight. She prayed it would work and not sputter out like a heartbeat. Nails skimmed across the doors of the closet beside them and the one they were in, causing both of them to feel the hairs on their neck rise like a stormy tide. The athlete leaned back quickly, feeling sweat slowly run along her back.

It was a few minutes they all waited, and she could practically feel everyone's baited breath. It was god-awful as her stomach turned itself inside out. Nea's closet door was the first to open and Meg took that as a cue to open the door and meet up with her.

Seems like she had chosen the right idea as Jake was also leaving his own closet, sweating glistening along his temples. Looks like they were all practically shaking in their own shoes. Even Nea looked uneasy.  
Dwight slowly crawled out, unable to feel his fingers and toes with a whine. "I-I'm so cold. It was like being in a frozen meat freezer f-for longer than usual!" Nea helped him to his feet, nudging him sharply with a tense frown.

"Come on. We can't all wait on you for something so dumb. Come on."

Meg frowned right at her, but she couldn't argue. Dwight had to quickly recover before they could all get in trouble. "S-Sorry! I-I'll keep up."

"You better, or you'll be left for dead."

Dwight looked down, all light seeming to disappear from his glasses and his eyes, as though Nea just stomped on the rest of his hope.

Meg acted without thinking, shoving Nea up the stairs incredibly hard. "Quit talking to him like that, unless you'd like your face to meet the damn dirt."

Nea turned around, her face slowly becoming red in anger while her lips turned up into a sneer. "Why don't you bite me about it, Queenie? I bet you're one of those girls with a high GPA and was a cheerleader in school. Bet you're so damn proud of yourself being a team leader and the little golden girl."

"Are you fucking kidding me, I was in track and I still have enough energy to shove my foot up your "I've lived such a hard life" ass!" Meg noticed from the corner of her eye as Nea's mouth opened again, that Jake was pulling Dwight back into a closet, his face as stone-like as ever.

As she concluded that the thing was coming around, Nea's fist found her nose. Pain shot up like white lightening from the base of her nose to the middle of her forehead while a crack resounded through the area. Meg fell back. Immediately, as she felt her weight leaning back fast, she attempted to dig her heels into the ground to upright herself, but she failed. She knew she did as she felt the back of her head slam into the metallic doors of the closet.

The only thing she heard as she blacked out was the white, ringing noise and the sudden flash of white of a nurse's gown.

* * *

Dwight felt all air escape his lungs as he attempted to find the lungs he needed to scream. Meg fell down in a rush of wind from Nea punching her straight in the face and half a second later, as Jake closed the closet door, dragging him into it as well, the thing appeared again, standing behind Nea with a bonesaw raised over their head.

Feeling light-headed, he and Jake watched blood from Nea's back fly upward with the force of the weapon. A scream echoed throughout the basement, causing him to cringe as she darted to the side. He watched her from the slits of the closet run around the single stand with four meat-hooks. Having not seen them before, he shuddered but was soon pushed out of the closet. Fear almost overcame him until Jake followed him out, picking Meg up and throwing her over his shoulders.

Dwight watched him tear up the stairs before he looked over at Nea, who was supporting a bleeding shoulder and continuing to avoid the floating nurse. Swallowing a thick wad of saliva, he then followed Jake, stepping around the blood that was causing his eyes to water. The metallic smell was really getting to him as the hours and maybe even days went by.

He hoped Meg and Nea would be okay.

As he ran, Nea's voice filled his head like a recording on max volume. _"You better, or you'll be left for dead."_ A tremble swept through him as he looked at the back of the man who was carrying Meg all on his own. Jake was an impressive guy, carrying someone who easily weighed about 120 on both of his shoulders. He was muscular, intelligent and kept to himself. Every woman's dream guy.

Dwight sighed low enough to see it in a wispy cloud of fog. He really was just trouble, wasn't he? He wasn't smart enough and he hadn't been able to save Claudette from…from that thing. A wave of guilt took his entire chest cavity and he almost wept right there, but he put his fingers up to his eyes, pressing hard to avoid crying.

He regretted it as he then lost sight and proceeded to stumble over a tree root. With a yelp, he felt himself hit chest-first, face and glasses following suit into the cold soil. To avoid embarrassment, he looked up to see Jake staring at him from over his shoulder.

"I-I'm okay!" Dwight stood up fast with another stumble and brushed himself off, cheeks hot from embarrassment. Jake nodded and then continued on with words rolling off his tongue.

"It's good you can keep on your feet." Dwight wanted to protest, but he decided against it. Now wasn't the time to be a sob story or anything.

"Dwight, I'm going to try and fix her up here." As Jake said his name, he glanced around, suddenly having lost sight of the woodman and Meg altogether. After looking around dumbly, he then glanced into the taller weeds and saw Jake looking at him. "Can you get to the generators by yourself?"

"M-ME!?" Dwight's voice cracked on two different tones out of shock and awe that Jake was trusting the klutz of all people to start up something as inconsistent as a generator. He could barely remember when to put his shoes on correctly if he was ever late!

Jake only nodded before seemingly tending to Meg's broken nose and bleeding head with his jacket and gloves. "If you can also find something in one of the chests, use it. If it's a medical pack, bring it here. If it's a toolbox, get rid of the hooks. Got it? Now go."

Dwight nodded and sprinted/stumbled away, feeling his heart suddenly thrumming in his chest. He tried not to think of the looming danger and attempted to look around for any landmarks that could help him later. As he did this, he glanced up to the hospital and felt all of his nerves turn to ice. If his horror-movie instincts told him anything, it was that there was something definitely inside there, generator or other.

Heaving in a gulp of air and swallowing his saliva, he pulled his pants and then began to quietly tip-toe. He prayed that he could hear his heartbeat before he saw the nurse from afar. Somehow, she managed to just _appear_ out of nowhere. She just showed up behind Nea, with a rustic bonesaw. The image of it flashing through his head caused him to shudder as he ducked between the broken front doors.  
Gurneys were strewn about like everyday home décor. Curtains and barred windows seem to fit too well for a hospital like this. Dwight slowly removed his glasses, wiping at the dirty specs with the cleanest part of his shirt before sweeping them back onto the bridge of his nose.

"This… This is an asylum. Easily 1900's." He remembered history books he had to read in highschool. Asylums in the 1900's were extremely barbaric up until maybe the 1950's. Even then, however, the treatments were extremely vicious as people were forced to vomit, become drilled to bleed out "the bad spirits" and many, many died.

As he looked around at the beds, he could see leather straps for restraint, rooms that were slowly leaning off their rusted hinges and rats scurried around with bits of cloth and bone between their teeth. Dwight didn't want to know if it was human.

Licking his cracked lips, he breathed in—and immediately regretted it as dust filled his lungs faster than smoke. Using his sleeve, he coughed until tears were in his eyes. With a stumbling and a wheeze that rattled his chest, he quickly found a generator. Unlike the asylum, this generator seemed clean, aside from the grease spots. That could wait. For now, he knew he had to find a medical pack, otherwise Meg was going to be in pain for a while.

"If only Claudette was here…" His heart ached at the thought of her, but he forced himself to look around, hoping to find a chest. It wasn't long before he did see one and a breath of delight filled his aching chest, but as he breathed in, he also felt his heart jump straight to his throat as a wail practically rang throughout the building, almost drowning out the heartbeat in his ears. Instantly, he dove to hide in the chest, prying it open with any kind of strength he had left.

Why the hell was it so dark in here? It was giving his goosebumps to high hell, but it wasn't as bad as he heard the wail again. It left a cold chill coating every inch of his soul, or what was left of it.

A strange sorrow flooded his windpipe and it took everything in him to not start coughing. However, he couldn't help but wheeze to remove the tickle that dwelled deep within the back of his throat. As soon as it left his lips, a crunch from the top of the trunk lid caused him to scream. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be surprised with his vocal chords, or not as the blows on the top of the lid didn't stop.

Dwight threw his hands up over his face to avoid the wood chips that bounced off his glasses, trying to slip into his eyes. Squinting, he could see the greyed light slowly filter in through the box, and a blackened figure was swaying above him with each hit of its weapon. Dwight could feel the panic attack in his chest, but he knew he couldn't stay like this. He had to move, but how?

More and more, the lid began to become bashed in, leaving a hole bigger and bigger with each swing. He would have to somehow stand and book it, but he wasn't sure which direction was to freedom, or which was directly to death.

A staff started piercing through, and Dwight could see the vertebrae attached that sent a chill up his spine. What really did him in, as it came crashing down once more to open the box to the world, was the skull with hollowed eyes. Dwight was certain that he was staring at the skull of a survivor that had never truly made it, with broken teeth and a cracked cheekbone. He had to go. _Now._

He rolled up and threw himself out of the box, feeling a weight attach to his hand. Almost instinctively, he felt his hand curl around it and he almost defecated as he believed it was something that belonged to that monster. As he tore off, wiggling his way through broken boards and curtains, he glanced down briefly to see what he was holding.

 _A medical pack? When did I get that!? Did the chest give it to me? Was it luck?_ He pondered this long enough to nearly end up smacked by a wooden board from above, forcing him to duck down.  
The chiming of church bells sounded behind him and then, without a trace, disappeared like a puff of air. Dwight slowed his footsteps down, turning fully to look around at the asylum. There was no heartbeat, and there was no…nothing. There was movement from the torn curtains, the rats, and the grass, but not anything that could hurt him. Nothing human, anyway.

With slight breathlessness from his burst of sprint, he then looked up, wondering if there would be anything on the rooftop. A tilt in the ground caused him to immediately windmill his arms as he felt his weight tip backwards. With a yell, he fell back-first onto the edge of a broken palette. The wood dug into his back and he took everything within his stomach to not let out a pained yell. God, no, he couldn't.  
Slowly, he moved to find the sharp edge with his free hand to gradually push himself up, breathing heavily through his nose to avoid making more noise. Feeling the indentions in his back from the wood, he then stood up and rubbed at the irritated skin, even given a scolding glance to the wood like one would a puppy who peed on the floor.

The realization that it was put down meant that Nea must have run through here. He looked up. Nea was alright? This also meant she was trying to put distance between herself and the nurse. He then nervously rubbed at his chin. But did that also mean that the second killer was now out and hunting?

He swallowed nervously before looking around, trying to see if he could spot Nea from afar. So far, he didn't see anything. Taking this as an invitation to get back to Jake, he ducked down low in the high grass, slipping from rock to rock. As he did such, a burning barrel caught his eye as it illuminated the hook. It didn't move, but it was still a haunting piece of equipment.

As the fire burned, the geek began to feel almost serene before he began to move again, keeping low and his breathing even. The sky was an oddly burgundy shade, perhaps it was because the sun might have been shining through this grey fog. Dwight doubted it. It had been night time by now for countless hours. There was no time to tell except for their biological clocks. Even those were beginning to get shaky due to the nightmares and terrors that they thought of night by rolling night.

What Dwight figured was coloring the sky so brilliantly was the blood of the survivors that had become sacrificed. He was guessing they weren't the first people here, but then again…there were a lot of things he wasn't sure of.

A scream cracked its way into his eardrums just as he figured it was okay to move faster. He ducked down immediately, nearly letting grass poke him in the eye. As he looked around, he could see Jake and Meg's unconscious form by the tree again, and the nurse standing above them both. She looked as though she was recovering from a severe blow as she dangled above the ground, swinging around like a broken limb before quickly straightening.

Dwight thought fast as she held her bonesaw above her head, aiming to swing down hard and catch Jake by the throat. The geek would have like to admire his bravery more, but he was too busy throwing the medical pack at the nurse's head. It went off course by more than what he had hoped for, but it hit her dominant arm.

All three cringed as the nurse shrieked, letting go of her weapon and holding her arm. Dwight patted himself on the back and yelled, "Take that, you nasty nurse lady!"

And then suddenly she appeared to be super pissed.

Dwight figured that what he needed to do now was turn and book it before she teleported behind him and choked him to death.


	7. Escaping the Ward

It was impossible to move silently this time. The weight of another body on his shoulders would eventually weigh him down drastically, as he was exhausted. Jake sat against a tree, keeping Meg's head cradled on his lap as he waited for Dwight to return. Or, at least he hoped the guy would return. Surely Dwight understood the urgency of the situation not to chicken out.

The glimmer in Dwight's eyes when Nea had scolded him was like watching the hope of a child ripple away, like fish scales beneath shimmering water. It was pure defeat. Jake remembered how that felt, but he was never sure what to say to other people about the situation. He didn't know how to comfort people aside from a pat on the back.

Jake let his eyes close as he dabbed at both wounds that Meg had received, being as gentle as possible. Lord knows this would hurt drastically, and for a long while.

After a little while of silence, the male slowly removed a small journal from his pocket, having received it after Claudette had been pierced by what looked like a spider leg. It had hit him in the face. For a moment, her face flashed in his mind. She had been weeping and she had been fading quickly as this thing was attempting to stab her throat. The poor girl had tried so hard to fight her emanate death, and he had…

He gripped the journal tightly before focusing on its leather-bound pages, his lips pressed firmly into a thin line. The first page gave him an indication that whatever Claudette had found was extremely valuable. He wasn't sure whether to feel lucky or devastated.

 _September 12th_

 _I began my search in the summer of 1956 after hearing of the town of Weeks, a place that had an unusual number of missing persons reports. America is filled with such towns. But what made this one more odd than some, was that there had never been a report of a body found. Indeed, the number of open missing cases stood at a staggering 364, the last of which happened a mere ten weeks ago. So, thusly I embark on my journey._

On and on, the journal entries went, with no year to prove how long this scenario had gone on for more than just the current survivors. The dates vanished, barely out of three days before they became "Entry 1" and so forth. Jake was engrossed in the readings, flipping through page by page with his eyes glued to the paper, but his ears as open as ever.

 _I have also seen, this...evil thing. This Entity reaches out to pluck those who fall into its path, bringing them to its hideous construct where it plays with their soul for all eternity. The entity curses these innocents with an endless game of life and death. Each death brings an awakening into a fresh hell where the hunt begins again. I am but a mere puppet in this grim theater._

The Entity? Was that what took Claudette? And the rest of the survivors? And was this "hunt" beginning again? Would she be back, but maybe with a different personality?

It felt like only a short while of peaceful rest was accumulated before his questions dispersed as quickly as water on a hot pan. He was able to hear nearby wailing, causing all of the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect and the journal to dive back into his pocket. A glare passed over his face automatically, to ward off anyone trying to be a piece of shit for scaring him, but what he found was the nurse, floating eerily like someone from The Exorcist.

Jake held his breath as she floated quickly over to where they were. If he moved, maybe she wouldn't get close fast enough. He couldn't hear the heartbeat yet. As he attempted to move Meg into his arms, he kept his eyes on the nurse, long enough to see her raise her left hand. It began to glow a violent orange and yellow shade, as though it was mocking the lack of sunlight.

In a heartbeat, she was a good twenty feet away and then suddenly, she was nearly directly in front of him. All breath swept itself out of his lungs. _She can teleport_ , he thought, his knees suddenly losing all blood in them for him to stand. She stood there, watching him and floating like a hanging corpse, with her head tipped one way and her breathing uneven. Every inhale, he heard a wailing trying to already rise in the back of her throat, like an automatic response to a noise, but it died away with her exhale.

"…What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and the hair on his neck rising once again. She didn't say a word, but he stared at her in return, searching along the bag that was on her head. "Leave us alone."

Jake was surprised, if not shocked. She was listening to him speak, and he could tell with how she tipped her head this way and that way. No, she didn't move, and he could guess why as blood slowly dropped off her bonesaw.

The glow appeared on her hand again and he flinched backwards, protectively holding Meg against his chest, covering her head as much as he could with his arms. The scream of her movement was neither from her, nor from anywhere else, but it was loud and surrounding the area. It was as though she was using her ability from the fear of the late dead. With ease, she raised the blade slowly, and Jake knew it was for him. He could tell, as he looked at the direction she was swinging from. He was the only thing that would be in the way.

Her sudden shriek caused him to wince, almost even more so as the crack of her arm gave him chills up his own back. Her blade didn't fall from her hand, but her arm swung out of the air, now twisted and swaying in the slightest breeze.

Jake turned his head, eyeing the medical pack that had hit her and the one who had thrown it. "…? Dwight?"

"Take that, you nasty nurse lady!"

A sudden orange glow shown from the threading of the bag upon the nurse's head, and Jake knew she was pissed. He would be too if his arm got broken, but right now, he was feeling blessed. He watched Dwight tear off, the nurse turning on her heels immediately to teleport after him. Jake called out to him.

"Dwight, be careful, she can teleport!"

 _"SHE CAN WHAT!?_ " He heard him, he could tell and was immediately zig-zagging around. Jake watched intently as he sprinted around, the woman attempting to make an idea as to where he would go. She missed, but she tried again.

Jake counted three times that could teleport in one go, but even from where he was, he could hear her gasp in pain as she doubled over, letting Dwight get away.

Looks like he would be okay, but now he had to worry about getting Meg somewhere safer. Otherwise, they were screwed. With a grunt, he began to move her into his arms bridal-style. She was, by no means, easy to lift, and she would probably kill him if he said that outloud. Regardless, he began to head off in a different direction.

If they could get back to that fireplace, if ever again, he would try to read as much as he could on the journal. For now, it was too dangerous.

Gradually, a generator came into view, having been worked on only a little bit. Only one piston was slowly moving, letting Jake know that someone had been here. He set Meg down next to him to work on it, his fingers sore and aching from working on them earlier in the area before.

Actually, he was sore all over. His shoulders and arms were like a beacon of pain the most, not including his sore neck. He had slept on it wrong when he first woke up with Nea and the others. And he was hungry. So hungry. He could only imagine how Nea felt because he had only seen flighty crows and running rabbits. There was nothing to eat and he would have to hunt as soon as they found okay ground to rest at. Maybe then he could finally teach Meg.

He looked over at her for a moment, stopping his work with a worried look. She was resting peacefully, or so he hoped. Maybe she would have the better strength out of all of them, eventually.

In the silence, save for the occasional, stray heartbeat and the rustling wind, he worked. The crunch and crank of the slowly re-living generator was almost therapeutic. It meant progress to safety.

Soon enough, the light from the generator bloomed to life, causing him to smile a little bit in triumph and with a sweet relief that all was going to be okay. Just for a moment. It gave him hope. Lord knows it wouldn't last for much longer.

Jake moved to carry Meg again, this time on his back. That was a feat. He almost gave and carried her bridal style again, but he knew his arms would've given way. With care, he finally moved her onto his back and carried her away from the scene, mentally calculating that they needed maybe three more generators. If Nea had gotten two before, then his would make three out of six.

He ducked down low in the grass, feeling sweat coating the back of his neck.

Something felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on the idea that lingered in the back of his mind like a cobweb. There was something in the air that was causing him to really worry. Like he was being watched from a closer angle than what he liked.

It was unnerving.

Jake looked up from where he was, staring around slowly with narrowed eyes. He didn't blink, for fear that he would miss whoever was around and avoid seeing them, and getting the others in danger. At this thought, he looked over his shoulder at Meg and held her close as he could with his hands comfortably on her thighs.

As he looked around, a spot of red caught his eye, causing him to raise an eyebrow. He had never seen anything like that before, and the idea of something new caused him to hunch over further and look where it originated from.

 _What the hell is that now?_

A beast in black, hovering almost on their tip toes, stood there watching them from afar. Flaring eyes of black locked with Jake's, and he almost felt his soul leave his body as the creature disappeared with the haunting sounds of old church bells, leaving behind any traces it had been there.

He decided now was the time to leave. Right. Now. Keeping Meg with him, he immediately balanced her on his back and his own weight to trot the hell out of there, trying to keep his eyes peeled for another generator of some kind.

As he ventured around, sweat now seeping into his coat despite the chilled fog, it didn't take long before he found one. Dwight was already working in with a bleeding shoulder and loose cord between his teeth. Jake neared forward just in time to see Dwight put two and two together and tie up some mechanical work without blowing something up drastically. A faint smile occurred on Jake's face just as Dwight noticed him standing there.

"Whoa! Jesus, J-Jake don't scare me like that!" He stopped working on the machine to get up and help him carry Meg. Jake sighed, feeling the weight come off and leaving him freer as Dwight helped Meg's unconscious body onto the ground.

"How many more do we have?" Jake asked, moving to his knees to help with the generators horrendous endoskeleton.

"Uh, I think two more if we get this one down." Jake recalled the journal as he watched Dwight move back to the generator. He took notice of how the man's hands had finally stopped quivering. Looks like he had some sort of dignity within him if he was able to keep himself steady. He carefully joined the other male, inwardly questioning as to which wire went where.

Things went by smoothly, and it was almost a blessing, but he still felt as though there was something strange. He glanced to his back pocket for a moment, slowing his handiwork as he did so.

 _That journal is going to be our guide,_ he thought, eyeing the tiny book for a moment longer before turning back just in time to see the old thing light up.

Simultaneously, a howl occurred in the distance, along with the lighting of another generator. Just nearby was a switch that was outlined with the light of success for just a moment. He couldn't explain that, but he decided to just take it at face value that it was there to help. Jake moved fast, moving to haul Meg over his shoulders. "Dwight, go! Get to the switch! I've got Meg!"

The four-eyed male nodded and stumbled to get up and sprint towards the door, almost falling because he didn't want to disappoint. Jake pulled the blond onto his shoulders with a grunt before attempting to fast walk his way after him.

The distant, but oh-so-close scream caught his attention, and he immediately knew that she was close. The heartbeat was another story, but she knew that the gates were opened, and she was coming to check between both of them. As the heartbeat echoed in his eardrums, he saw Dwight up ahead, pulling the lever down with all of his might, even though it didn't make the door hurry any faster. It was beginning to slowly drift apart, but not fast enough.

Jake turned his head around and looked over Meg's back, eyeing the white figure that was floating after them. He looked back at the door, watching Dwight's panicked expression as he began to mumble curses under his breath. Out of anxiety, he turned his head back again and noticed that Nea was over the nurse's shoulder, struggling with all her might. Her shoulder was bleeding, enough for it to drool down the front of the uniform that nurse was wearing. Eventually, the nurse took a sharp left and disappeared amongst the foliage.

He cursed under his own breath before laying Meg down on the ground, speaking aloud to Dwight. "Stay here and get Meg through the door. They don't seem to go through it, so take her and run."

As the doors opened, Dwight spun around, looking like a deer in headlights. "What do you mean!? Are you sacrificing yourself!?"

"She has Nea!" he exclaimed, sprinting towards the direction the nurse had gone in. He heard Dwight sputtering behind him in awe and shock before shaking his head and moving to take Meg up in his own arms.

Seeing the nurse from a distance, he ducked down low, eyeing Nea. She was definitely a fighter as she attempted to elbow the nurse in the throat, but was unable to. The woman had telekinetic powers, and was keeping Nea just floating over her shoulder as she entered the hospital and disappeared downward. Jake stood and walked quickly after them, making as little noise as possible as he eyed every corner he could hide in.

Up above, the sky was beginning to darken and swirl like an angry mass of bloodsharks, waiting for the feast that was to come.

Was that the Entity?

Jake put a hand on his backpocket, feeling again for the little book that he was now desperately clinging onto, like a lifeline he couldn't lose in this disaster.

Nea's scream and bloody outline from beneath the floors of the hospital caused his eyes to become directed away from the shadows and to the basement. He could see the nurse, drifting away like a soundless vulture who had just taken its first meal. Jake ducked down into a corner, hearing the heartbeat thumping deeply in his chest.

He pulled in a shakey breath and let it out quietly as he heard the wheezing sobs of the floating woman, who slowly swung her body to-and-fro as she left the building, looking for another kill. From below, Jake could hear Nea.

"Hey! You fucking, rotten piece of shit! You stupid hag, let me off! Do you hear me!? Let me off!" Jake could hear fear in her voice. It was seeping through and proving that she, too, wasn't as hardy as she claimed to be.

Then again, weren't they all fearful of showing their true face?

A shudder crawled down his spine as he realized that the only one who might have shown their face was the chainsaw killer they had met previously. Everything else…was most likely a mask to hide emotions.

Maybe he was being too poetic.

With a shake of his head, he crouched his way through, avoiding detection as best as he could by using the shadows. Nea was struggling down below, as he could hear her fighting those legs that Claudette had fought beforehand. It was nothing more than a gory way to end a life.

Creak by creak, he made his way down into the dungeon of the hospital, feeling goosebumps as he eyed the placement of the closets and how close everything was. He had been down here in a place like this before, and that was back with the muscled bear-trapper. It looked almost the same.

Jake smoothly walked up to Nea, grabbing her hips as supporting as he could before helping drag her body off the hook. She had tears streaming down her face from panic and pain, but she didn't say anything as she realized what was going on, and pulled her own shoulder off the hook with his help.

"Why…did you come…and-"

"No time," he whispered, helping her lean against him. "Let's go. The gate is open, thanks to your handiwork."

She didn't say anything as the heartbeat continued to thump in their ears, proving the nurse was still nearby. Jake continued talking.

"We're going to have to hide in one of these closets. She'll be coming for us, and there's also that other one that's lurking nearby. But I can't see it."

"That's because he goes invisible," she wheezed.

Jake blinked, looking at her in shock as he opened a squeaking door. "He does _what_?"

Nea could only nod before she helped herself into the cramped space, feeling her arm screaming as Jake shut the door. By that time, he could hear the wheeze of the old nurse from nearby as his chest began to ache. Both of them watched the area from the small slits in the metal, as the woman in white escorted herself down to the basement.

"What the fuck, how does she know I got loose?"

Jake didn't answer as he gripped her waist and wrist a bit harder and left the closet with a bump of his hip. They had no time, and they had to use what they had as well as they could.

Her scream from the bowels of the hospital gave the both goosebumps, and suddenly, Nea found herself able to run, putting her hand on her ripped shoulder.

"Let's go, don't worry about me!" Jake didn't, and began to sprint as fast as he could with her by his side.

A haunting chime of bells dripped down his back as he saw something from the corner of his eye move, the door just in sight with its little red light. The rip of flesh down his shoulder caused him to cry out and stumble through the grass. Nea glanced behind her for only a second before sprinting as fast as she could. Jake could only guess what that meant, and it wasn't the nurse.

He glanced behind him, only to feel that same feeling down his entire spine, causing his left leg to seize up and make him fall over. The door was only a few feet in front of him, and he couldn't even move as he felt himself behind picked up.

"Hey, you bell-freak!" Jake felt the beast turn around, just as he recognized the voice and saw the fanning light of a flashlight. "Drop him now or be blind for fucking life!"

A grunt ripped out of the grinding throat of the creature, and he dropped Jake to move to rub his eyes, clearly having been blinded. Jake moved to limp out of the area, smiling very slightly at the now-awake blond.

"Glad to see you're up."

"Glad to see you're not dead."

Supporting one another, they ran out of the hospital grounds, hearing the screams of the nurse as she could only come so far.


	8. All for One, None Get Out

The march back home was nothing fun. There was relief, a moment of bonding, and the pain of being nearly torn to shreds. The forest was almost homely now, even to Dwight, who had been left alone in a place like this. It was cooler here, helping provide a bit of comfort against the sweat and tears of their narrow escape.

However, it seemed they all had something to say as they finally saw the usual camping spot…and a body.

The unusual, human form was something they were hesitant to approach. They were used to monsters, and brutes, and other what-have-yous. Not other people.

Meg looking over the familiar top and the brown dreads, pulled back into a comfortable ponytail while the campfire darkened their skin. She shook her head, moving to gently touch the beret she still wore from what she believed was a best friend as Jake examined the figure.

Dwight spoke slowly from Meg's side. "Jake? Who is it?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Meg chewed on her lower lip, watching his expression. It seemed to be like he was trying to conquer every intellectual idea he had with magic. Eventually, he looked up, speaking so low that it gave them goosebumps.

"It's Claudette."

Meg felt rooted in place, like a cold shock just ripped through her. Nea sat down calmly on the nearby stumps and logs, holding her shoulder.

"Isn't that the friend you told me that died?"

They all could just simply nod with numb expressions, as though they weren't sure how to really respond, which was the truth. Jake, very gently, turned Claudette over so her face was visible. It was clean, as if she had just been rebirthed. Or cleaned up of any scars, bruises and dirt.

Meg leaned down, falling directly to her knees as she looked at the face of her best friend. She looked like she was sleeping so soundly, with her eyes closed and her glasses fixed perfectly, without a single smudge.

"But…how?" Dwight spoke their minds and no one answered him. This silence sat around the camp for a little while, easily five minutes before Jake finally moved to sit and open the book. Meg looked him up and down then at the book.

"Hey, that's the book Claudette had before-…" She trailed off. "Do you think that there are answers in there?"

Jake nodded. "Definitely. It's a journal from someone who's gone through all of this."

Immediately, all of them gathered around Jake, wanting to get a good look at the book that he was holding, and that could answer their questions. Jake cleared his throat and began to read aloud,

"The Entity is a force of darkness from an ancient place with no name. No sense of purpose other than to endlessly torture its victims over and over again. It is torture and not death it seeks as there is always an escape. Perhaps it feeds off our hope as it seems to offer it to us before dashing it cruelly at the last second. With each "death" I feel myself weaker, a little piece of my soul devoured by the darkness before I awake. I fear, eventually that I will lose hope. I wonder, then, what this dark entity will do with me then. I want to find out, but I fear the answer. Am I alone here? I believe I have seen traces of others as the beings hunt me. All I seek is that soothing, flickering campfire light."

Dwight shook his head. "Whoa, whoa. You mean…we can die and then…come back? Is that why Claudette's here?"

Nea looked to him. "Probably. Not a bruise on her. Let's keep reading."

"Each killer seems pulled from a place of great darkness, their own violent actions summons this most ancient of evils from its slumber. The Entity reaches out, taking them willingly into the place between worlds where it demands they do its bidding. They must hunt and kill the prey set in front of them. Some go willingly, others need to be convinced. The Entity tortures them until they are less human and far more thing. Until the last light of humanity has faded from their souls and they take up their weapons and sacrifice the survivors. The killers are needed to feed the Entity with the hope that keeps it alive. I am a pawn in this parasitic charade."

Jake stopped, looking over the missing entry numbers and how out of place they were. Some pages were ripped out, other spots burned or even wiped away with sweat, or tears. Either way, they continued reading, and understanding.

Nea eventually leaned over and pointed out a drawing and the title. "'The Stain?' I don't know if I've seen that before." Dwight blinked and looked up, adjusting his glasses.

"You haven't?"

Meg shook her head. "Neither have I." She looked up at Jake, who also quietly responded with a simple shake of his head. Dwight's jaw dropped like a rock and he fidgeted by shifting his glasses around again.

"B-But I c-c-can."

Without missing a beat, Nea added on, "Probably from the glasses."

"Perhaps it is because he's noticed it since the beginning. Or, he's simply gifted."

Meg blinked, seeming to think before she turned to the nervous male. "Weren't you here first? Out of all of us? That might be it. …Or maybe you didn't get hit over the head by a stranger."

Dwight gave a nervous smile, running a hand over his face. "W…Well, I _did_ pass out drunk."

Nea raised an eyebrow. "You? Drinking? What did you have? Milk?"

"Moonshine," he stated, bluntness hovering in his words as he looked at her. A glint of unamusement passed over his glasses and through his eyes. He eventually turned away to look at the fire while Nea struggled for words. A small spark of smugness crept into Meg's lips before she followed Dwight's gaze, slowly removing Claudette's hat from her head as she did so with careful fingers. She didn't want to dirty it further.

Jake continued to read, flipping through page after page on the killers, The Stain, The Heartbeat, the generators, and more. Nea read with him from over his shoulder, trying to get an understanding with him while Meg and Dwight lost focus.

Meg found herself staring at the flames, wondering if she would burn out her eyes like this. If it'd even let her. Slowly, she put her forehead on the backs of her wrists, breathing in slowly and feeling every ache in her body. She could feel the crusted blood and her split lip, the bruises and the gashes as well as the burn in her lungs from fear of the fog.

Thoughts plagued her head as she recalled the staring face of the man in black, with his head grotesquely tipped to one side and his white eyes seeming to search for their lives; their souls. The nurse was no better with her gasping breathes and her broken limbs, swaying like old chimes that no longer made noise. Her feet didn't touch the ground. Instead, they skimmed along the surface of the grass and concrete alike.

They had no souls, but Meg felt like there was something they were missing. Something awful, something dreadful and disturbing. With this on her mind, she stared up at the sky, looking at the black, soulless abyss with a weeping pain blooming through her torso.

"Things aren't ever going to be the same again…are they?" No one responded as they also realized that they may not ever make it out of this place with a sense of being alive.

One by one, they fell asleep at the fire, listening to the hum of the wind and the soothing rustle of the pine trees.

Meg woke up eventually, her eyes peeling open as she recalled the stab wound to her gut as soon as she plucked up two other cards. She certainly wasn't bleeding now, but goddamn, she hurt like hell. Now she knew for certain that what she was seeing in her dreams was the… What was it again? The Entity?

The crackling of the fire was an inviting sound, blocking out the silence of the night as she moved to sit upright. Her head ached and her lips still stung from being slugged in the face.

A soft sob caused her to nearly jump, and she spun her head in the direction. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she forced herself to remain as steady as possible, holding her head.

Claudette was up, tears running down her face as she tried to bandage up a knocked-out Jake. Her hands were trembling as she tried to keep her companions away from the brink of pain, with whatever tools she had. Meg couldn't recall when she got a medical kit, but then again, she wasn't really going to question much in this horrific realm. Instead, she watched as the poor girl panicked over the unconscious bodies of her friends.

Meg softly spoke. "Claudette."

Poor girl didn't even jump, but instead froze in horror for a moment, casting her gaze over towards the blond. She seemed more lost than what she had been before, with her eyes wide and glassy with tears and her posture tense from anything that shifted, from the fire to the shadow of the trees.

Meg watched her petrified friend before very gently taking the hat from her lap and carefully handing it over, as if she was feeding a frightened bird.

"Hey, it's okay. Everything is okay. Can you come sit with me? I can sit next to you, if you'd like." She decided to take herself up on her second offer without another thought, considering it looked as if Claudette would just pass out there. Meg sat next to her as tenderly as possible before wrapping her arms around her and gently dragging her onto her lap, hoping she would find comfort.

Like a twig being snapped, Claudette fell into her friend's lap and clung to her tightly in silence. Meg didn't mind and simply began petting her hair and then fixing her beanie back on Claudette's head.

Meg softly laughed. "You know, the beanie looks a lot better on you than it does me. Glad to have you with it again." Honestly, she felt delusional, as though she was talking to a mannequin or an image from sheer grief. But she was real. Even Jake had touched her and Dwight had seen on with a look of pure terror in his eyes. She had to be real, right?

It was quiet for what felt like eons, save for the crackle of the fire and the occasional snore from Dwight. Meg supposed she shouldn't be too surprised that the men snored, but honestly, she wondered if herself or Nea could snore louder. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips before she looked down at Claudette, unsurprised to see her passed out and curled into her lap, her glasses shifting to the side, off her nose.

Meg sighed and leaned back a bit, moving to lay down as well and get some more rest. Or so she hoped.

 _Are you happy now?_

The athlete opened her eyes after what felt like she had just closed them. She blinked, free of the heavy ache on her eyes before immediately regretting her decision. Darkness swarmed her vision with a sense of familiarity, causing her to heart to leap in her chest out of sheer panic.

 _Are you happy now?_

She frowned, hearing the voice scratch its statement again into the back of her skull.

"Happy with what?" she hissed, attempting to finally get up off the floor. A horrible feeling filled her chest as she realized she couldn't stand, her wrists and ankles strapped to the cold ground. She lifted her shoulders up off the floor as high as she could, feeling whatever strength she had get sapped up into the freezing air.

 _Are you not happy?_

Meg gritted her teeth. "No, I'm not happy, let me go!"

 _I thought you wanted her back. Should I permanently remove her?_

Another horrible realization hit her chest as she realized it was talking about Claudette's life. Like gasping for air underwater, she opened her mouth, sweat tickling the back of her neck suddenly.

"No, no! I-I'm happy now! Just leave her alone!"

With the accuracy of a kitchen knife, the sound of a sharp weapon soaring through the air, Meg flinched back as a glaring spear was in front of her face. It dangled threateningly, like a hook looking for the biting fish.

 _Even if I leave her alone, aren't you all in this together? Shouldn't your experiences be conjoined into one?_ Its voice taunted about the fine line between happiness and contented feelings. She gritted her teeth as she felt the slender appendage slowly tap at the underside of her chin before dragging itself down her throat and over her sternum. In a simple movement, it pierced her chest, causing her to gasp and spring upright.

The fire glared back at her, causing her to recoil and blink before rubbing at her eyes tiredly. The grease and soot on her hands had crusted away and half of her fingers were clean and others were not. She really wanted a bath.

Seeing Claudette still peacefully asleep on her lap, Meg sighed and moved to gently place the female beside her, keeping her head elevated and hands gentle. At least some of them were getting some well-needed rest. Dwight was out like a light, looking goofy with an open mouth and a broken snore, while Jake slept like Sleeping Beauty herself.

Nea was pretty when she slept, with her face peaceful and her brows not so furrowed in the center of her forehead. A faint smile appeared on Meg's own face, as she realized that she wasn't too upset about this. Yes, she missed mom and living outside of this hellhole, but she at least had friends. People like her, despite their differences and weird ideas or thoughts.

Meg stood up and moved to find a quick place to bathe, figuring that if she just jumped in with her clothes, it wouldn't be terrible, right? She was filthy from head to toe and her clothes could speak for themselves. Maybe there was a river nearby in this awful place.

Taking what was left of her flashlight with her, which she figured wouldn't be much, she wandered away from the team.

Shrubs and other bushes brushed across her ankles, causing her to glance down and make sure that it wasn't hands. There was also an internal fear of brushing up against poison ivy that swelled up in her stomach, but she realized that there didn't seem to be any. Then again, she wasn't an expert on weeds.

As she walked, the sound of rushing water caught her ears and she immediately darted over to the source as quietly as she could, keeping her vision open with the help of whatever reflected off the water and fog. The dense forest eventually opened up to a wide clearing, coupled with a rushing creek that was as clear as glass.

Meg stooped down near the mud, moving to take off her shoes and socks before leaping into the cold water.

It was cold. So cold it was icy and she immediately came back up, feeling her teeth chatter. The rocks under her bare feet weren't too sharp, but they weren't a fun thing to stand on either. Meg made sure to take her hair out of her braids before rolling the hair ties onto her wrist and lean back, slipping her fingers through her hair. Even if it was as cold as the ninth circle of Hell, she had to get clean, particularly for her own sanity.

It was like heaven, feeling the dirt, sweat and blood just wash off like an old attitude or lover. Like the scum, her worries ran down the river, letting her enjoy the temporary bliss of just living.

As she rubbed at her face, feeling her cold clothing stick to her like icy glue, she felt a hair-raising warmth coat across her back. Knowing this feeling of being watched, she stood up, frowning immediately through her hair.

The Trapper stood there on the other edge of the river, watching her silently. Goosebumps crawled across her skin as she wondered how long he had been watching with that awful grin and the glinting knife. Even now, it was dyed in red, and she wondered if he had recently killed others like them.

"You… You wouldn't come in here, I bet. If you've been watching me the whole time, then there's no way in Hell you'll want to come after me in the water."

His single step into the water made her rigid, and the second step in left him waist-deep and with a warning that Meg could have been wrong. She didn't waste time crawling out of the water on the other side, digging her nails into the river bank to help herself out. She swiped at her socks and shoes before legging it back through the woods, stumbling over sticks and thorny shrubs that caused her to hiss and force herself to take her time and drag out the thorns before moving on.

The fog increased its density as she ran, and the faint light of the campfire was nowhere to be seen. The orange glow that gave them all hope wasn't coming up to help her figure out where everyone was.

Feeling another thorn dig deeply into the front padding of her foot, Meg attempted to immediately lean against a tree, hoping to pluck the little sucker out. Her wet hand lost the grip on the tree and she fell to her knees, nearly landing directly on her face.

Reaching back, she tugged out the thorn with little hesitation before standing up and looking around. A blue color scheme cascaded over the unholy area as the Macmillan Estate rose high into the fog and trees. Out of anger for being looped into hell alone, she punched a tree so hard she felt her middle finger pop.

"Goddamnit! He was leading me on!"

Now she would have to repair generators on her own, and God knows how long it would take just by herself! Not only that, but she was soaked, making her clothes heavier and her body colder. She wouldn't be able to move as fast.

She took in a deep breath and stood, moving to stretch from her ankles, all the way to her neck. The athlete was doing what she learned from heart to soul, and that was warming up before taking a detour around the damn world. Even if she wasn't, she knew that's how much she would be running.

Her eyes scanned the place from top to bottom, wondering if there was any way to leave. So far, she was unable to see the brick wall that separated them from the outside world, causing her to raise an eyebrow. Could she leave? Right then?

As she cracked her neck and rolled the remaining kinks out of her shoulders, she wiped the dirt and blood from her feet before slipping her socks and shoes on. She stood as gracefully as she could, but it didn't work out in her favor. Instead, she began to limp to find an exit of some kind while listening for the heartbeat.

What was this killer like again? The Trapper, right? Meg vaguely recalled something about the "Macmillan Estate." Was that where he died? Worked? Lived at, even? How did it come here? Was everything just connected in this one, huge forest? No, that couldn't be right. The campfire was too precariously placed, as if someone wasn't sure they wanted it, like a sofa.

She sat on a ledge of a window for a moment, cursing herself for not reading the journal Claudette had found. Then again, though…she had been so tired.

Meg stared at the ground for a brief while, simply thinking now and giving her feet some time to rest. She probably wouldn't get it at any other point in time, anyway. At least not here.

 _Ba-thump._

Meg fell off the ledge and ducked down into the corner, putting herself in a crouching position to run and keeping a hand over her mouth. God knows he could probably hear any of them breathing.

In spine-chilling silence, she listened to the heartbeat, her own chest resonating with the sound in her ears. What felt like minutes passed by and slowly, the footsteps nearby faded away into the distance, leaving her to breathe in and then softly sigh through her nose before standing and walking out from her hiding spot, keeping herself low in the tall grass. If she was seen now, it would be hell.

The loud snap of metallic and piercing pain in her ankle caused her to nearly scream. Teeth of metal dug deeply into her right ankle, causing her to bleed and feel as though the bear trap was snapping its teeth into her bones. Tears sprung up in her eyes as she immediately attempted to pry off the metal mouth, having no idea how these things worked.

 _Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

Meg looked up, feeling sweat prickling at her forehead before cursing herself. Why couldn't she have looked where she was going instead of trying to find him!? She could listen to understand where he is, but she fucked up and managed to step in his trap.

He was walking towards her, broad shoulders almost moving first due to the muscle he had for securing other survivors. Meg looked down at the trap, eyeing anything that could help her remove the teeth from in her skin. Trying to shake off tunnel vision, she spotted two, button-like springs on either side of the mouth, rusted from blood and weather, but most likely usable.

A warm hand, thick with calluses grasped at her throat and pushed her hard into the dirt, pinning her in place in the grass. The athlete hissed, attempting to kick at him with both feet and claw at his hand but was immediately silenced as he grabbed the iron grip and held onto it. As she moved her leg, it sliced her skin open even further, forcing her to stop and try to breathe to somehow null the pain, cursing low under her breath.

He was patient, or maybe even amused, as she continued to try and pull his fingers off. "Let…go of me! Swear to fucking God, I will bite your hand off-!" She flinched as he pressed down harder, lowering her capability to intake oxygen, causing her chest to heave as she tried to suck in more.

"Let…go…!"

A deep chuckle resonated in his chest, proving his amusement in watching her struggle. His hand didn't let up on her throat, but the teeth were removed from her torn leg, causing her to blissfully drop her aching foot. Grass poked at the open wounds, but she didn't care at this point. The pain was gone, aching soon, but it was gone for now.

Another blissful moment swept over her as he lifted up off her throat, causing her to breathe in too deeply and cough. It lasted for only a few seconds before his hand wrap around her jaw and mouth, lifting her up just enough to drag her behind him.

Meg was pissed. Absolutely pissed. She was being dragged around like a sack of shit and she was not happy about it, but she couldn't do anything. His hand was so tight it prevented her from even opening her mouth to try and bite his palm. He knew what he was doing and that, in itself, was terrifying. How many times had he done this before?

He suddenly swung her forward and Meg felt all air leave her chest as she hit the floor, her head aching immediately. She glanced up for a moment, wondering what he was doing and only recalled the back end of his weapon forcing her to sleep.

* * *

Meg felt like she had a concussion, and almost couldn't feel anything else. Pain raked her body, from her head down to the soles of her feet before she slowly glanced up, attempting to understand where she was with a head throbbing.

She gave a muffled screamed as she saw a face watching her, twisted and ugly from the normal standards of society. He pulled away fast, limping away like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. His hands came up to his chest, his knotted fingers slowly twisting near his heart. Meg scoffed. Even if he was nervous and frightened, she should be the one doing that when he was a man with a goddamn chainsaw!

The female twisted herself around, feeling her numb arms above her head as the heartbeat pounded into her aching head. Well, at least she wasn't on the hook by her shoulder, but she was still being hung up like one of the pigs and cattle on the tree back at the farm. She shuddered and attempted to swing off the hook, hoping to kick the Hillbilly in the process.

A hand weaved its way into her hair and tugged her back forcefully, staying there to keep her in place. The Trapper moved to her side, looking at her with that awful grin on his mask before putting a single finger up to it.

Meg glared with all her might, moving to adjust herself to where she could swing up and kick her legs at him. His blade was at her throat before she could blink and she froze immediately, feeling the sharp edge gently kiss at the center of her neck. He forced her head back, causing her to hiss into the cloth as he ran the blade slowly up her neck, letting her feel the sting of how sharp it really was. She also knew it was a threat.

"Meg? Meg!?"

"Meg, where are you!?"

 _Oh no._

The Trapper let her head come up as soon as he moved the blade away and she was immediately eyeing her friends off in the distance. Everyone had something, whether it was medical pack, a toolkit, a map or even a flashlight. That was all fine and dandy, but now she knew why she was here.

It was a trap.

She attempted to scream at them, wanting them to avoid the killers that were standing near her. She couldn't, not with the gag. The Hillbilly moved to hide behind the trees, taking up his hammer and chainsaw with his usual limp. The Trapper grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him and he once again put a finger to his mouth.

Meg felt her brow twitch in irritation before she swung up her legs, hoping to hit him in the face, to knock off his mask or make him lose balance. She didn't even hit as he grabbed her ankles and twisted them, nearly to the point of breaking. His fingers dug deep into the bear trap wounds and it took everything in her power to not start screaming. She couldn't give him that satisfaction.

Slowly, he let her legs fall and moved to park right next to her behind a broken generator, looking to slash the first, unlucky survivor.

"Hold on, Meg!"

 _Oh no, Dwight. Oh please…_

The chainsaw started up.

 _No…_


	9. Enter: The Gambler

Claudette opened her eyes to the crackling fire, hearing Dwight stir awake with a temporary snore. The botanist sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes behind her glasses. Her shock had worn off, and now she was able to look around, eyeing the wounded people that sat around the campfire. Her wounded friends.

Jake was already standing, causing her to glance up at his handsome jawline first before watching his dark eyes scan the campfire. One by one, they woke up and he watched him, soon looking at Claudette with a stoic, tired and uncertain gaze.

"She's gone."

In the blink of an eye, Meg's face appeared in her mind and she immediately began to look around, drinking in the sight. Meg was, indeed, gone without a single trace of identification where she could have gone. Not a single stone was turned over and not a single footprint was around.

Dwight yawned, rubbing at his eyes before standing wearily. "W-Wha…? What's going on?" He rubbed at his face slowly and then looked up, watching Claudette slowly stand also.

"I feel _awful_ " she hissed, slowly moving her legs back and forth before looking at Jake. "Do you think she could've run off?" That was what she hoped the most for, anyway. But then again, what would she have ran away from without telling them about it? Horrific events filled her mind of what was most likely possible in this hellhole. Luckily, Jake interrupted her thought process.

"It's doubtful. I don't see any foot markings."

Nea was standing now, watching Claudette pale before speaking up. "So you think she was kidnapped?"

Dwight looked like he was ready to cry. "W-we're not safe anywhere!"

A mutual feeling swept over them like a plague of despair, but Claudette shook it off the fastest, showing determination on her face, even if her fingers quivered. "We have to find Meg. Otherwise we'll be missing one person for God knows how long."

She looked to Jake, looking for at least a little help in persuading the others into her thinking. Her heart sank as he merely looked away but he still spoke. "Let's go find Meg. We have to rely on everyone's efforts if we want to survive."

Ten minutes later, they were getting ready to move. Within their sleep, they had all seen it. The Entity had given them items, refreshing their hopes with a single flashlight for Dwight, a toolkit for Jake and a map for Nea. All Claudette remembered was feeling a weight on her chest. She supposed her medical pack was full. For now.

Dwight was feeling the oncoming ache of blisters in places he had never thought of on his feet, and everyone was gradually feeling sore. Luckily, no one was aching for food, not yet anyway, and Dwight seemed to be the most thankful about it, probably considering he was the one least likely to be able to find food. Everyone simultaneously felt the notion that Dwight would mistake something poisonous for an edible.

A grey fog slowly creeped along the sides of their calves, rising higher like the waves of an oncoming tide until it fanned above their heads. Dwight shuddered and rubbed his arms and chattered.

"W-Who turned on t-t-the AC?" Claudette almost giggled if it hadn't been for the fact there was a prickle of fear. At first, it cascaded along her arms and then over her chest, trying to sweep through her sternum. She shuddered with Dwight, turning to look at him.

"Do you know how long your flashlight will last?" Dwight shook his head for a moment, but then stuttered.

"W-Wait, yeah. It's…it's around five seconds, I'm pretty sure."

Claudette nodded. "That's around how long Meg's lasted. At least, that's what she told me."

"What's a shitty flashlight going to do?" Nea hissed.

"It blinds them." Jake casted a glance to her, eyeing her sternly. "It doesn't last long, but their eyes are the most vulnerable."

"Yeah," Dwight began. "Meg shoved her flashlight in the… What was it? The Hillbilly's eye? I'm surprised she kept it after that." Claudette spun around to look at him, her eyes wide and her mind reeling.

"She shoved it _in_ his eye?"

"And shined it into the eyes of the Wrath. If she hadn't, I wouldn't be here. I'm pretty sure." He nodded faintly. Claudette watched him cringe seconds later, as he realized that he would come back, just like her.

She let a hand drift over her chest, feeling the stuttering pace of her heart. Like it only happened hours ago, the female remembered being impaled through both her stomach and heart. It hurt. It hurt so much she couldn't have even screamed and then she was…watching. No emotion, not a sound. That much she remembered, as well as watching everyone run, struggle and fight for their lives.

The botanist shook her head, putting her hand back on her forehead for a moment to wipe away from sweat, quietly calling out.

"Meg? Meg?"

Deciding it wouldn't be too bad, Dwight did the same thing. He called out. "Meg where are you?"

"Shut the fuck up, you two losers! We don't want to attract attention!" Nea looked ready to beat them with the rolled up map in her hands and they quickly quieted down. Guess it wasn't much of an idea to look around in a foggy place like this.

 _Ba-thump._

She jumped so hard that she flew back into Dwight, having not expected the sound. Nea also jumped, but mainly because Dwight had also skyrocketed out of his shoes.

"S-Sorry," Claudette whispered, making sure Dwight was standing before they continued forward, as alert as ever. He simply patted her shoulder, avoiding Nea's nasty look over in their direction for being frightened at the simplest thing. Claudette couldn't help it, especially with the fact they were walking through new territory. Well… was it new though?

The heartbeat grew louder, but Dwight focused on the area in front of them first, his neck stretching out slightly and his eyes narrowing.

"I see her!" Claudette glanced to him, watching him immediately point and then lead the way, as though he was a natural born leader. It was a strange sight, seeing his eyes light up and his shoulders broaden with confidence.

Eager to follow, she quickly walked after him, feeling her calves stretch as she tried to keep up. She could feel the tension between Jake and Nea as she went along, and wondered just slightly if her gut instinct was telling her to run towards, or away from her best friend.

She figured that out only when the engine revved to the chainsaw, causing her to immediately feel sweat crawl up on the back of her neck and a chill to sink deep into her feet.

"Oh God, run! RUN! DWIGHT!" Jake grabbed the back of the boy's shirt and began to leg it in another direction away from Meg, no matter how much it pained him to do so. They couldn't risk their lives, not like this.

Claudette's chest tightened as she felt her breath become quick and shallow, her palms sweating and a cold chill happily slithering along her skin. All she could remember was the awful chainsaw noise near her ears and the crunch of bones as she was forced on the hook. Seeing his disfigured face watching them just from the shadows caused her chest to heave and her head to go light.

She ran. Claudette turned and ran as fast as she could in a different direction, feeling tears sting her eyes out of the unbridled fear she felt with the Hillbilly. She didn't hear Nea call for her as she simply ran. She didn't want this, she didn't _need_ this torture. Not again…!

* * *

Nea called for her again before spinning on her heel, eyeing the awful, massacred face. It took only a second before he stood up and sprinted at them, aiming for Jake and Dwight.

It was a three-way tango, with Dwight being dragged around like a limp bag of potatoes. Nea took a moment to observe before she shook her head and sprinted towards Meg, hoping to get her off before the rest of the killers showed up. It was the least she could do, at this point.

The glint of a knife caused her to immediately throw her gaze to the left, eyeing the direction it had come from. As soon as she stopped in front of the hanging survivor, she saw him. Crouching like a predatory panther, he sat in the tall grass against a small wall, which barely contained his mass of muscle and bones.

Nea stopped and watched him look up at her face, and she swore for an awful seconds she made eye contact. Despite the danger, she tore her gaze away from the beast and stretched as far as she could go, hands reaching for the rope that kept the athlete in place. The girl didn't bother to try and decipher the noises that Meg made, most likely for her to run, but she wasn't going to. Not this easily.

A growl came from the ducked down figure just as she eyed the disgusting knot that one of them had managed. It was neatly tightened and kept taught with indecisive loops and twists.

She pinched her lips as she realized this wouldn't be as easy, considering someone only with dainty fingers could have managed this in the slightest. There was only one person out these atrocious monsters that could have even remotely done this.

"Damn that stupid nurse!" she yelled, surprising Meg before she leaped away. He wasted no time in stalking forward, the machete dried from blood that had long ago touched it. Or maybe recently. "Alright, you wanna come at me? Then fucking catch me, motherfucker!"

Nea flipped him the bird and took off at the fastest speed she had ever managed. Or at least, that's what she figured as she tore off through the fog, squinting in hopes of gaining a better view.

The heartbeat resonated hard in her ears and within her chest, and she wondered if this was what having a soulmate felt like. If it was, she never wanted one in her entire life.

Nea took turns around trees, barrels that burned with a comforting, alluring fire, and around bends of debris that came from wood, and tires alike. She didn't understand it, and she didn't understand why he was so fast. She had confirmed, previously, none of them really run. This guy didn't run at all and simply walked, as though he was certain that he would catch his kill.

She shuddered and felt goosebumps unfold over her arms as she continued, speeding through the tall grass. The first building loomed over, and she had no time to catch her breath as she spun on her heel and tore down the pallet. She nearly felt the woodchips fly with how hard it slammed into the wall, but it would be something as she spun her way up to the stairs.

The heartbeat continued to echo, forcing her to continue, but there was something forcing her to stop. A side stitch. Panting like a thirsty canine, the female felt suddenly crippled after so long, her side screaming in pain as she heaved for air.

 _No, no, no! Now is NOT the time for this, goddamnit!_ However, as the pallet broke from the floor below, she forced herself to hide around the nearby generator that made not even a whisper. Curling up as tightly as she could, she tried to taper her breath towards her knees, facing the wall so he wouldn't catch her eye.

His boots came up the steps and she closed her eyes tightly after eyeing the nearby window. It was locked, for sure, but if she had enough force, she could bust out of it. It would almost be suicide if she landed wrong, but it would be better than this. It would be better than waiting like a scared puppy for the beating of the owner.

Nea began to breathe forcibly through her nose, trying to calm her aching lungs down as she heard his boots stop at the top of the staircase and she could hear his own breathing. It was ragged, deep and could make even the most macho of men shrink away. It was filled with not even testosterone, which she normally anticipated from any man.

It was just _bleeding_ with the bloodlust to kill. He didn't want to impress women with his body, nor his intelligence in wielding weapons to keep the future family safe. He just wanted anyone in his way to be dead, for one reason or another.

This was fear. This was a trembling state in the corner while feeling imaginary hands grapple your neck and choke the life out of you.

Nea trembled for the first time after being out on the streets with thugs and murderers that still had half a mind, as everyone wanted money, or something else. This was just a mindless maneuver of death. Nothing else was behind it.

His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor and she glanced up slowly, watching his muscled back now as he traveled to the other open window that was across from her. Instantly, she figured this was her chance to sneak the fuck down the stairs and get the hell out of this house as fast as she could.

Sucking in a quick breath to regain her bearings, she moved to crouch and move past him, watching his body lean out of the window, looking for her just in case she had really jumped out of there.

 _Ha, sike_ , she thought and took a step forward-

And fell.

A chill of horror clung to her faster than frost to an icecube as she realized she had been in such a fright that her knees actually caved out from under her. She looked up at him, watching him turn to look at her.

Nea immediately moved to crawl down the stairs, which turned into a partial and painful tuck-and-roll down the wooden steps. It hurt. It hurt a lot and it felt as though she had just broken her kneecap on the edge of one. However, she had no time to think on it as she attempted to stand again, already hearing him coming down the stairs.

The female felt her knees quake beneath her as she started to move again, her side stitch already attempting to come back in full force, with little hesitation.

"Oh fuck!" she hissed, clutching at her side as she moved to the best of her ability, casting a glance behind her to make sure there was plenty of distance between her and him. This was the best she could do for now, and she cursed her luck.

"Someone better be fucking saving Meg, or I'm going to beat the shit out of somebody."

* * *

"Yes, I promise I can see the red glow!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! We can't move from here! Not yet!"

The two argued in hushed tones, Dwight forcing himself to bite his knuckles to stop shaking so much. He was soaking his shirt slowly in sweat, even though the air was extremely cold here. He hated being scared, even if it kept him alive.

"Why are you the only one who can see it?" Jake murmured, keeping himself firmly placed in the closet corner. Dwight looked at his hands for a moment, eyeing the bloodied bite marks before looking up at the other.

"I…I don't know! I—" He stopped, moving to wipe his eyes with shaking fingers. "I don't know how and I don't know why. And I hate it." A long sigh slipped its way out of Jake's nose, causing Dwight to softly cringe. He had disappointed Jake, and it caused him to hang his head, almost knocking his forehead into the metal wall of the locker. He pulled his head back just in time, but still didn't feel all that great.

Jake spoke quietly, his head very gently leaning on the wall. "When you first woke up, did you see it on the killer? The Trapper?" The Trapper? Was that the first man? The one in the mask?

"I'm…I'm fairly sure, yeah. Why?" He looked to Jake, who was looking up at the ceiling. He was silent for a little while before he spoke up once again.

"It might be directly related to your life before this."

Dwight blinked, astounded. "Huh?"

The look on Jake's face was not a happy one and it left his heart hanging heavy in his chest.

"Dwight," he murmured, his eyes not leaving the metal incasing as the heartbeat started up. "Have you ever felt suicidal before?"

He froze, feeling goosebumps on what he would describe as every inch of his being. Why was he asking about this at such a critical time? Then again…the red stain was something that could help everyone with remaining hidden. Right?

Realizing he was answering with no answer, he shuffled his feet and spoke in a delicate tone, as the topic was like glass shards being walked on.

"N…Not really."

"So is that a yes?" He flinched hard as Jake finally lifted his head, his eyes showing exhaustion and a mutual feeling of ache. When Dwight fumbled to answer, tripping over his words with a numerous amount of stuttering, Jake simply closed his eyes.

"I understand."

"Huh? W…What?"

Silence filled the air for a shorter amount of time, but the aura was heavy with the faint melody of the heartbeat.

"I understand the feeling of being abandoned, and left behind. I don't like admitting it, but…I have also felt as if something was just wrong with me. It's a feeling that never goes away. Maybe that's why we're here? To live miserably for the rest of our lives because we didn't appreciate what we have?"

He knew Jake was a wise man, but he wasn't expecting this from him. Dwight bit his lower lip before he leaned down, softly smiling.

"Heh… I guess…we all have our problems, no matter who we are and why. But, hey." He put a hand on Jake's knee and squeezed it reassuringly. "Even if it is miserable, we have one another. We know how each other feel, like some estranged family. So…even if we are stuck here, or something, we…we have one another."

Jake looked up, suddenly looking as though the world was weighing on him, even as he returned the smile.

"Thanks, Dwight…"

"Hey, no problem. You'd…you'd say the same thing to me…right? Just think of it as a reassurance that I won't leave you behind." Dwight felt as though he had just connected very well with Jake and as the heartbeat finally faded away, he relaxed significantly.

A scream scratched out any safety he felt within his knees and he was immediately shaking and moving to stand, peering out. It was something that he had heard before, back on the farm, a scream filled with pain—

Jake gasped with him.

"Claudette!"

* * *

The botanist had realized that she was of no use, not when she was running, scared for her own life. After having made sure that the heartbeat was non-existent, except for her own, she had rounded her way back to where Meg hung. It was impossible to know how long she had been hanging there, and if she remained uninjured, but she would find out soon.

A scalpel was in her hand, ready to cut through the ropes as she slowly made her way over, the crunch of leaves making her existence known to Meg, who looked more tired than ever. A look of guilt was on her face and Claudette understood how that was.

"It's not your fault, Meg," she whispered. "We're going to get everyone back to camp, and take a nice, long break." They shared eye contact and Claudette gave an affirmative nod as she moved to stretch her hands and scalpel up to the rope, hoping to slice through the damned knot that was so preciously made.

She took a step forward and heard a metallic chomp, synchronizing with her screech of shock and pain and the heat of pierced flesh crawl up her body. Claudette knelt down immediately, dropping the scalpel and immediately eyeing the rusted bear trap that was too sharp for its own good, fighting to catch her breath.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" How could she get it open, how could she-?

Meg was louder than ever, despite the cloth and Claudette looked up. Meg's eyes then darted down towards the trap and she bopped her head to the far right and then the far left, swinging her legs to even point with her toes. As she did that, Claudette noticed the two, spring-like mechanisms on both sides of the metal trap and looked up again.

"Do you want me to unscrew them? …No? Oh! Push it down?" The nod of confirmation was all she needed as she started to press down on one end. Meg almost kicked her in the face and then attempted to motion with her feet as to what she needed to do. She did this by pointing with her feet again and then pretending to step on them both at the same time.

Claudette wasn't sure what to make of it and gradually began to panic as the heartbeat came along. The springs were really hard to move, and it took everything in her arms to push on at least one. It gave way a little bit, but the teeth were unforgiving by clamping down on the same wound when she let go. It didn't take long, as the heartbeat grew faster, that she understood how to remove the trap. With all her might, she pushed them down and felt the trap loosen just enough to pull her foot out.

She had no time to relish in her temporary escape as she forced herself to limp away and then thud hard into the tall grass up against the wall. She squeezed herself into the spot as tightly as she could, sweating even at her palms as she heard the heartbeat thud hard.

 _Please go away, please go away, please go away…-_

The female heard shuffling behind her, where Meg still hung and she didn't dare move to check. Hell, she didn't even want to breathe. Instead, as quietly as possible, she began to crawl away, feeling her fingers shake from adrenaline and the pain that made her grit her teeth.

As she continued on, she stretched her hand out and felt leather, which made her immediately tear her hand away and look up, expecting to see a face of anyone. She felt tears brimming on the corners of her eyes as she balled her shaking fists as tightly as she could, ready to fight.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," came a whisper from the new face above. He was a rugged man, with greying hair but he had a rather smug grin and eyes that could have resembled a teenager, even behind the darkened shades. He held his hands out, his fingers cut in several places, but healing. There were calluses formed from hard work on his fingertips, and dirt beneath the nails.

He was human.

"I'm here to help you," he said, holding his hands out a bit further. "But we've got to get you some medical aid. In a safe place, I mean. We can use your medkit."

Clumsily, she took his hands and let him help her up to her feet and a half, feeling her leg shoot pain up her veins like a needle.

"T…Thank you, sir."

They began to move away from the heartbeat and the killer that was near Meg, his chuckle lightening the darkened mood for only a second.

"Ace," he said. "My name is Ace. And I'm a survivor just like you."


	10. Another Map Run

The shack was quiet, filled with lockers, a generator and a meathook just outside the doors that creaked in the fog. Ace had set her down on the floor as gently as he could before providing help with applying ointment, peroxide, alcohol, and bandaging to her new wound. The skin around each bloody tooth mark was already turning blue from bruising.

"Damn, kid. What did you run into?" he asked, picking up her foot by the shoe and rolling it to the left and right just enough to eye the bandaging work. "A bear trap?" Although, that was impossible, considering they were traps to simply hold something in place, not to harm. Claudette watched his face show surprise as she simply nodded. She supposed he wasn't used to the Trapper then.

"No way, are you pulling my leg?"

Claudette managed a sarcastic snort, not feeling up for this kind of questioning. "I would but I don't have the time for that." The older man blinked before officially letting go of her foot.

"Alright, alright, you've caught me there. Sassy little lady." He then stood up onto his feet and held his hands out after she packed up the medical pack. She took his hands, feeling the roughened patches of years of work before standing. To her surprise, she could walk fairly well on her leg and was moving out without so much as a limp, and she made sure she could move well enough by grabbing the med pack.

"Nice work," she said, wiggling her ankle a bit before looking up at the man, who wore shades despite the darkened area.

Ace chuckled and turned, putting his hands on his hips lightly. "I know some things, kid. Now, who else are you here with?"

Claudette regarded him quietly, really wondering if she could trust someone else without the reassurance of her companions around her. However, she shrugged and continued to speak, figuring that if anything happened, they could all run from this guy. "There're four others. One of them has been…kidnapped." Her heart seized up and she swallowed, moving to look around for a generator. And a way to escape the questioning. "We're all human. Younger than you, I guess."

The man started to tsk, clicking his tongue and causing the botanist to give him a sharp look. "That's a pity, that these monsters take kids such as yourselves. Don't even get a shot at a good job or a good party with booze."

Claudette shrugged before she moved to walk past him. "I don't drink anyway. Not my thing." Though, she was sure she could probably be tempted into a shot of whiskey or something after this nightmare. Or maybe just straight-up Nyquil to forget and sleep.

Ace no longer spoke as he followed behind her, seeming to also be on the lookout for generators.

Or so she thought.

"So, what are we looking for? Your friends?"

She blinked and turned, looking at him from over her shoulder. "How long have you been in this kind of place?" As she asked, she could see Dwight and Jake running, and much to her surprise, Dwight was dragging a wounded Jake along. Ace was talking behind her, quietly discussing his "descent into madness" and that he must have been here a year. Even if he had been, there wasn't time to dawdle.

Claudette turned, grabbed the man's sleeve and began to tug him along. "I see some friends. Come on. We need to see what's wrong." Ace barely so much as gave a grunt before he was being pulled along by this slender girl who seemed very focused. Sure, she was nervous, but she couldn't afford to fall behind in this hellhole. They had to stick together somehow.

As they neared their position, the familiar "ba-thump" echoed. She immediately cursed and ducked down, accepting the arm around her shoulders. Even if the guy was probably attempting to get friendly with her at their first meeting, there was an undeniable sense of security in his muscled arm.

Speeding past them only seconds later was the Nurse, wailing in all of her glory and limply swaying back and forth. Eventually, her left hand glowed an eerie orange and she disappeared in a blur of movement and screams. Whether they were hers or the damned was something Claudette didn't plan on learning. Instead of questioning, she brought herself up to her feet and began to head off again, no longer feeling pain in her ankle. It was like a strange blessing.

"Easy there," he muttered behind her, keeping up as smoothly as he could. He seemed to do surprisingly well. "I don't want to go chasing after whatever that was. I know a female, but I don't think she was my type."

Claudette seemed to immediately let a face form on her cheekbones. Lord, this guy. Was he really a survivor or just a figment of someone's imagination? She shook her head and hissed beneath her breath, "I… I don't know. I've never seen that kind of monster before. I thought they were all…all men." Looks like fate took anyone that it could grab at this rate. For whatever sick game this was.

She ducked down after a bit, turning along a wall to run smack into Jake, who caused her to give a soundless shriek from her mouth. Jake immediately put his hands up, revealing the left completely being colored red and smelling of iron.

"Shh, shh! Hey, don't scream, it's me." His low voice, as gentle as a murmuring river, calmed her down rather quickly. She put her hands to her chest and breathed as Ace spoke from behind her.

"Who's "me"? Nice to meet you "Me," I'm Ace Visconti. I'm a survivor like you all." He said this as Dwight poked his head up over Jake's. He seemed white in the face, but otherwise, he was healthy. "Y'all need some help? We've got a medpack."

Jake seemed to be the most suspicious as he narrowed his eyes, looking also extremely displeased at the pun. "How can we trust you?" Claudette then eyed him, taking a long glance at the deep slice in his jacket that poured crimson. She winced out of habit and inched forward, softly attempting to pull his jacket to the side. He seemed to pay her no mind and she took this as a cue to tend to his wound. The female picked away the clothing, seeing that it was definitely new and it was awful.

It wasn't a clean slice. The jagged ends of his open skin caused both herself and Dwight to flinch. Without a word, she tended to him with her remaining bandages and patches. To be on the safe side, she also applied ointment, in hopes of preventing an infection.

"Trust me? Well, that's a good call, kid. I did bandage up your friend here," Ace said, motioning to Claudette. She felt her cheeks flame red from the brief attention but she ignored it to the best of her ability. Every now and then, Jake flinched or twitched from the pain but otherwise didn't say anything at all about it.

Ace continued. "I'm not here to entertain you kids with answers. Don't you have someone you need to be rescuing?" By this time, as they fell silent, Claudette was finally wrapping bandaging around Jack's side. She, shamelessly, eyed his torso and admired his pectoral muscles before she glanced up at the rest of the boys.

"Meg. We don't know how long she's been here, but…"

Dwight cut her off with an agitated and nervous whisper. "When we got here, the…the killers were waiting for us and ambushed us." He looked around. "And we don't know where Nea is."

Ace folded his arms, seeming to take in the fact there are two other survivors. Claudette took her eyes off them and ripped the wrapping bandage, eyeing her work. It looked clean and it seemed pretty good too! She seemed proud and patted Jake's shoulder.

"There!" She gave a small smile and she felt a little flustered when he smiled back.

"Thanks, Claudette. But let's see if we can devise a plan."

Dwight seemed to get excited and was immediately grabbing a nearby branch and attempting to carve into the dirt. "I have an idea! I-It's not maybe the best but, I guess it's all we've got."

They all stood around the makeshift map that Dwight was drawing. It was always surprising to see Dwight focus so well on projects like these. It was, supposedly, safe to say that the man really focused whenever it benefited everyone.

"This is where Meg is," he began, pointing with the twisted branch at the crude dirt drawing. For emphasis, he made a hook-like shape and then wrote "Meg" to one side. "And here," he began, drawing once more, "is where we are." With small movements, he wrote down "Us" and then sat the stick in his lap. "If some of us can manage to keep ourselves hidden and draw close to Meg, maybe some of us can distract. Maybe we can find Nea, too?"

Jake seemed to take this idea steadily, and Claudette could see the calculations in his eyes which stared intently at the scratched dirt. The botanist watched him glance upward, eyeing every figure in front of him, despite the heady fog attempting to wipe away any trace of perfume from their form. With a gloved hand, he pointed at each one of them, his voice low, meticulous, and thoughtful.

"Claudette, I want you to be a decoy with Dwight." Both simultaneously paled and looked to one another. Before they could question, he continued.

"Both of you run fast and are more easily scared. You push more adrenaline because of that fear, making you flighty. Neither one of you have steady hands, and I'm going to rely on Ace to help me get Meg down." Questioningly, as if to mutely ask Ace's strength, he looked at the elderly male, who simply grinned and flipped a coin between his fingers. With a sharp ring, it went up, twirled, then fell back into his palm.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Let's get to it. You got a route we can take?" Jake glanced to Dwight. The male moved to his knees and peered through the shrubbery, soon pointing out the countless barrels, debris piles, and the several placements of odd-and-end walls that they could get down behind. Once it had been figured out, the plan was made.

They would get Meg within the next five minutes or die trying.

* * *

Nea was exhausted, to put it bluntly. Her side bled over her clothes and skin, sinking down deeply into the pores of her frame like the curtain of an 1870's play. Her clothing was slowly becoming try around the edges, flaking off and stinking the cotton. It was an awful smell, though she had slowly gotten used to it over the years. Mainly though, she was hoping for a lack of infection from the bloodied saw of the Nurse. It never looked clean.

The street punk kept to herself as she leaned against one of the generators, clutching her aching right side. It was cold to her back, but she didn't dare put her inflammed side on it, for fear of further infection. The item itself was grimy and filthy from previous slashings of the past, and the amount of times it had been kicked. There was no way, but she could at least start it up somehow.

However, it was a slow process.

Though Nea felt the time to work on it now was fine, there was also the fact she was handicapped as of right then. It was feeble, painstaking work. Fingers twisted and looped the twisted cords like a tongue with a cherry stem for the first time. Red went to red, blue went to blue and then- What the fuck were some of these? Nothing was easy, and it wasn't going to be, not with one hand. Not only that, but some of the innards of this mechanical beast were heavy and had to be screwed in by the broken fingernails of every survivor.

 _Ba-thump._

"Fuck," she hissed, gasping for a bit more extra air before pulling away from the generator. It sputtered at the first valve, but seemed to hold itself up as she limped away, praying that if there was anything else in this world but death it would help her for a bit longer.

 _This damn Nurse,_ she thought. _She wasn't even near where Meg was. Was she waiting for us to split like a bunch of rats?_ This seemed like a logical idea. These murderers weren't stupid. In fact, they were highly intelligent monsters, who loomed wherever they pleased and snatched up your body like it weighed nothing.

Nea's foot rolled as she stumbled to her left. A sickening crack caused her to gasp and fall furthermore to the ground, in hopes of keeping all weight off of that foot. Adding onto the inflammation of her side was this brutal heat that swept its way completely to her hairline, causing her skin to shudder with goosebumps.

She held her breath as she laid in the tall grass, pinching her lips together to not scream or wail from the pain as the heartbeat echoed in her ears. It hurt so much, but she knew if she made too much noise, then she would be even worse pain.

Or death.

She was afraid she wouldn't even get the sweet release of death, seeing as Claudette had supposedly came back from the dead. Nea knew she had to fight, at least for a little longer.

Oh so softly, she could feel the brushing of something on her broken ankle. She felt her teeth dig into her upper lip as she waited for it to pass. As she attempted to peer through her peripheral vision at this oncoming servant of death, a red spotlight brushed directly past her, followed by the beautiful, tormented hem of the Nurse's uniform as she swept on by, wheezing.

Nea felt goosebumps smother her skin as a cold chill embedded itself into her body like broken glass. It was as though she had truly brushed against death as she watched this scarlet spotlight dart around, searching, scanning...

The street punk no longer felt the awful ache in her ankle. It was only a dull pulse of pain as she realized that there was nothing more painful than being stuck on a meathook and being sacrificed to some sort of God of death. There was no way. There was no damn way. Grabbing fistfuls of grass, she moved to scoot herself with her good foot with all of her might and drag her torso as forcefully as possible.

I'll be damned if they take me now, she thought as she began working on her generator from before. Some broken foot wasn't going to drag her down.

* * *

Meg glanced up, feeling absolutely nothing in her arms as she looked over the endless, foggy fields. It was as if it was just a joke to death to keep them all here. A soft snort came from her at the thought before she shook her head, feeling her shoulders ache and whine in numb agony of being stuck in one place for so long. It was painful, but she supposed being stuck on the meathook itself was worse. Or being dead, of course.

At the thought, she let her eyes close again, hoping to sleep away the pain and the despair of her friends most likely now remaining dead.

Fast footsteps shocked her awake, more so than ever. There was no way that these beasts could run, only except the Hillbilly, but only when he revved the chainsaw. She remembered. Much to her surprise, she saw Dwight and Claudette both b-lining for her position.

For a moment, Meg began to panic, wondering if they were going to try and commit suicide. Even now, she could see the Trapper off to one side, having made sure to return so he could follow their movements. He began to move towards them with no remorse. The only thing that kept Meg from now flipping every sort of shit she could give, she noticed two figures in the distance. She originally assumed it was Jake and Nea, and sighed in relief early. However, that wasn't Nea at all. The figure wasn't feminine at all!

Dwight and Claudette looped fingers and darted in one direction, speaking loud enough in frantic tones that she almost laughed.

"I'm going to kill Jake for this," Dwight hissed.

"If I see that Ace guy again and if he tries to get handsy, I'm going to feed him to the wolves."

"Me first."

"Do you already hate him?"

"No, I'm just a little overprotective."

Their conversation only mildly continued as they sprinted away, soon stopping at a tree and glancing back. Confirming the Trapper was now coming after them, they sprinted away.

Meg simply watched them and then decided to breathe in through her nose and close her eyes. If she looked like she knew something was up, then he would just loop around back again and more than likely get everyone in trouble for this plan. But, she did question as to what these two were going to do. And who was the one with the red cap?

As their footsteps crunched quietly on dead grass and leaves, Meg opened her eyes, observing the two men in front of her. Jake was holding a scalpel in his hand and was immediately cutting through rope piece after rope piece. The older man didn't say a word either, and simply moved to loop an arm near around her back, aiming to catch her if she fell back.

He wasn't wrong, as Meg's feet formally touched the floor and her body reacted like a body bag. Her arms fell faster to her sides than she thought was good as she leaned against the man's arm. They wasted no time in immediately moving to get away, hoping to take refuge at square one of their plan's beginning point.

It was a race, but they were also forced into a quiet state. They had to tread carefully, and Meg couldn't hold herself up. With one numb arm positioned over the back of the newcomer's neck and his arm around her waist, all she could do was carefully trot away with him acting as her new arms. At least for now. Whoever he was, he was saving her life, and she couldn't say anything negative about it either.

Eventually, she felt the bliss of sitting on the ground as Jake moved to rub her arms, hoping to bring blood back before they were seen.

"Good job, Ace."

Ace, was that his name? She let the elderly man take out the gag from her mouth and she had never felt in more need of a drink of water than right now. Or vodka, because fuck this.

"You too, kid. We need to lay low for a while then?"

Jake nodded twice and then glanced to Meg in such an endearing way, she immediately felt safer than beforehand, no matter the dangers lurking around. "Are you okay? I bet you're pretty sore. We haven't seen Nea in a while, so, there's that problem."

Meg nodded, heaving a small sigh before speaking, feeling liberated. "Let's wait for the others for a bit, see if they can come back up here." With a nod, they did just that, rubbing the athlete's arms in hopes of getting bloodflow back in quickly. By the time the cold numbness of her nerves coming back to life made its presence, she heard sprinting and could only assume that it was their favourite duo.

They all looked up and eyed the sweating, wheezing pair, who looked like they just took their first marathon without having ever practiced for it. The closeness of what happened, and this thought, brought a small smile to Meg's face before she carefully stood up, moving to embrace them both as best as she could. She was met with a quick group hug, filled with sweat and rapid pulses that she could feel all the way into her own chest.

Dwight pulled away first, moving to use his tie to wipe off his steamed glasses. "We... We need to...go. They're...really angry. And...Nea's injured." He then held up a hand, stopping Jake from speaking too quickly. "But," he panted, "she found a hatch. We think...it's the...way out." He bent over and wheezed a little more before Claudette, sounding a little better, spoke as well.

"We don't know why. But, we just got this feeling. We can't see the bottom of it, but there's no way we can get all of them done in time with this many murderers roaming around. Let's go." They all shared a glance and then seemed to share a mutual agreement just by the eyes. They needed out of here before more shit happened.

Claudette grabbed Meg's wrist and began to gently coax her along, ducking down with Dwight who was still trembling from adrenaline. It was like the poor guy had a stock of it saved in his stomach or lungs.

Sure enough, as they moved their way through the fogged trap yard, she could see Nea sitting there in the tall grass, her ankle grotesquely twisted to one side and her face as pale as the moon up above. She didn't look good, and because of that, she crawled into the trap door and fell into oblivion. Like it had been stated before, it was a black pit of, well, nothing.

"Well, she wasted no time," Ace said, glancing down by leaning on his knees. "Who goes in next?"

Meg breathed in through her nose and followed hotly after Nea, jumping into the pit without a second thought on her mind. A wave of darkness and fear washed over her before a sudden blissfulness swarmed her body.

Against her will, she felt her body grow heavy and every ache and pain subsided. She slept in the darkness, feeling embraced by temporary freedom and a tender blanket of nothing more than just space. Who knew floating in nothingness would be more blissful than living in hell?

It felt like gracious eons ticked by before she found herself opening her eyes, hearing soft music and the wind through trees. Dark skies stretch, but the accompaniment of twinkling stars seemed to make it peaceful.

"So, you're sure you're all on my side? In this...this town?"

She glanced up and off to the side, eyeing Ace crouching to one side and a young woman also sitting nearby. She looked like them, with her wild eyes of blue and her hands clutching one of the biggest kitchen knives she had ever seen.

"Yes, we are. We just recently escaped from somewhere and ended up here. Can you tell us where this is? What are you running from?" He then corrected himself, holding up his hands and clearing his throat. "No, no, actually. What's your name? I'm Ace. Ace Visconti."

She fiddled with the knife between her fingers before she spoke. "My name is Laurie Strode. And, I don't know, but my hometown streets are empty. Save... save for you all."

Meg slowly sat upright, frowning heavily with Ace as he questioned once again. "And what town are we in?"

"Haddonfield."

By now, the others were clued in, having started rising about the same time, or earlier than Meg. Something didn't make sense and she couldn't blame Dwight from immediately wanting to go into a home, and taking refuge there.

For now.


	11. One by One

Dwight was currently stuffing homemade Halloween cookies into his mouth, tasting the slight fragrance of baked chicken as he inhaled the scent. Meg watched him with a soft snicker before nibbling off dripping icing as well. Her compliments were to the baker, as the little ghosts and pumpkin cookies had a very delicate balance of icing and cookie. Though she wasn't hungry, she had the keen idea that they hadn't eaten anything in several days.

Off to the side, Jake was staring at a fire that had surged from the soot-kissed fireplace. Laurie was standing by the window, keeping the curtain peeled back as lightly as possible. "I don't know what he wants from me. I also don't know why the town is so empty." From the window, they could also see the red and blue lights of police sirens flash, but they all knew that the only soul there was just the young girl herself. From where Meg was, she could see her hands shaking, even as she felt the safety of the kitchen knife sitting at her belt.

"His name is Michael Myers," Jake said, causing Dwight and Claudette to look up from their cookie plates. Meg faintly wondered if this was fourth-wall breaking in some way. "He was your brother and was convicted of a crime before adolescence, so you were transported to a different family at the time."

Dwight nervously drank his glass of milk before speaking. "S-Should you really be saying that so abruptly?"

As they all stared at him, Jake looked up and over to them, his dark eyes as fiery and determined as they usually were. "If she needs to know, she needs to know. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that he's coming out to kill her. Or us." He pulled away from the fireplace, his arms folded and his jaw clenched. "The Entity is after all of us, and seems to be recruiting more than just those who died and want revenge. This is more than that."

"So you're saying," Ace began, "is that The Entity is the big bad reviving or making more big bads?"

"That's exactly it." He then held up the journal and laid it down, flipping through the pages and letting everyone else lean over, like curious children over a teacher's book.

"The longer we're here, the more we meet, the more pages there are." He glanced sharply towards Dwight, who nearly choked on his cookies. "Some of us can see things others can't, and it might only be a matter of time before things begin to change."

"Oh!" Claudette seemed temporarily elated at her discovery. "You mean, like a computer update?"

Jake nodded and Meg watched him clutch at the table. "This is a game to The Entity. And we have to get a way to win. Soon."

"And how do we win?" Laurie countered. "Do we even win?"

"Hope." Meg stood up and moved to settle the plate on the nearby countertop. "We can't lose hope. If we lose hope, we turn into dead men and women. Just like them."

Ace snapped. "That makes sense. If people lose hope, they will no longer play the game and strive to win. But are we playing into the game, or what?"

"That's what we don't know," Jake muttered, moving to lean against a nearby wall and looking out the blinds. Meg watched the flashing lights sparkle on his face before she turned away, tapping the countertop nervously. No one was safe now, and if people from movies and stories were here...

Was it truly a movie, or was it possibly a legend that had been buried for the sake of humanity's sanity?

For the first time, they began to sleep, curling up comfortably on the recliner, the couch, or even on the floor. The warmth of the fireplace, the soft music of Halloween spirit and the sweet smell of desserts was as soothing as home.

Meg slept only for a little time before being awakened by the soft snoring of Dwight, who hugged a blanket like a 5 year old and their stuffed animal. She sighed and rolled her eyes, eyeing Nea who was asleep on the floor about as heavily as a drunkard. From where she laid, she watched the female breathe softly and then exhale, her muscled biceps shifting only slightly with her widening ribcage and diaphragm.

Slowly, the athlete removed herself from the floor, feeling the slight indention of the carpet along her arms. As she did so, she eyed Jake, whose hair was damp from a recent shower. They shared a passing glance before he nodded towards the shower, not losing her eyes until he turned away. She nodded in response before walking towards the bathroom. Maybe this time, she would actually get a shower without someone staring at her, and her clothes getting drenched.

It was unknown how long she took, as she soaked for longer than what she figured she would have time for. The hot water was a blessing, as well as the fresh scent of shampoo. Vanilla. Wonderful.

She walked out eventually, running the towel wildly through her hair before being followed by a brush from Laurie. Not once did the female take her eyes off the road that casted its way along through to the next town. Or, at least she thought it would be. According to the blond, there was something wrong. Once she had tried to run through the fog that was thicker than a fur coat of rabbit hide, but she ended up on the opposite side of town, grazing Michael's knife.

As she braided her hair, the sudden gasp from Laurie caused her to jump. What she feared the most was about to happen as Laurie finally tore herself away from the window, moving to smack, literally smack, everyone awake. It wasn't hard to hear the smack from every cheek as she used a good amount of adrenaline to provide pain.

"He's here," she muttered, making her rounds and forcing everyone awake. Meg watched Dwight sit upright, his glasses and tie already askew before he was standing, looking like a dazed Bambi. Everyone seemed to get the gist of what was happening, and Meg felt Claudette and Dwight both find her hands. Security took ahold of her chest, allowing her to breathe easier as she passed the two a quick smile.

"Thanks, guys."

With little else said, they all followed Laurie, who was mumbling about something that related to the generators. Formally, she had no idea what they were used for, nor had she tried to fix them. Now, it seemed she was more annoyed at the fact that they all had to fix them to get anywhere.

"Six generators," Ace said, soon softly whistling under his breath. "Can't wait for this." Only an exasperated sigh mustered itself from Jake, who honestly looked ready to grab a gun and shoot someone. Probably anyone who screamed "bullshit." He eventually turned around and motioned to Laurie, Ace and Nea. "You all find a generator on your own. Those few are...a little worse for wear."

No one complained as everyone seemed to move away, hiding well within bushes, behind trees, cars and even in swimming pools that they would regret swimming in later. Meg, Claudette, and Dwight all stayed together, keeping their heads down and listening well to the wind that grazed the backs of their necks and up their shirts. Claudette let go of them twice to keep her sweater more tightly around her frame while Dwight muttered something about the cookies keeping him warm. Truthfully, Meg felt the same way, but had to swallow her chuckles.

 _Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

In seconds, they were letting go of hands to mold themselves into the bushes of the neighboring house they were hiding near, having almost enclosed on a nearby generator. This was almost one of the most uncomfortable things Meg had to do with her body, save for straining it for a game. The branches were surprisingly sturdy, although some of them were stickily enough to jab like needles into her arms and sides, making it impossible to run out if she got caught here. The others must have felt the same way as Claudette cursed about the pain of one of them nearly poking her eye out, if it hadn't been for her glasses.

The heartbeat got closer, and for the first time, Meg thoroughly saw the stain of red on the ground. A shudder and chill simultaneously swept itself up her spine, like a soft breath of air from death itself as the boots of Michael Myers crept by. The way they walked on by reminded her of the Trapper, but the soft, nearly invisible blood droplet stains made her think otherwise. Another shudder almost caused her to vibrate the depths of the bush and she had to sit as still as possible as he stopped pacing by.

Those thick boots slowly maneuvered around, the dirt softly flicking up to kiss the toe-tips of the rubber. The heartbeat thumped heart in her ears as she practically felt her own heartbeat echo through her ribcage. His excitement, if he even could feel it, was coursing through her as fast as her dread as he slowly paced around, the knife glinting deeply. The idea of that encasing itself near her throat brought her nausea.

Taking in a quick breath, she then held it hard within her diaphragm, hoping to keep steady as he stood.

This situation reeked of a dysphoria, wrinkling itself through the passing seconds of the lifespan she felt slip by like breath between the leaves of the forest. There was something that she couldn't put her fingertip on, as though it was slipping by like a cloak of the wicked.

 _r._

The thought struck her so harshly, she tapped her teeth into her lower lip, hard enough to extract blood like sap from a tree. Barely did she pay attention to the pacing boots and the heavy heartbeat that resounded like a war drum, even as they faded away. Like a warning sign, all she could understand was the true terror of a murderer; true, cold blood for the sake of looking for a high that could not be received.

"Meg?" The voice of Claudette caused her to jump, to the point where she flung herself out of the bush and nearly into the not-so-perfect picket fence of white. Even the beautiful white paint was chipped away at like hope from their souls.

Sheepishly, the blond turned around, feeling as though she now had heavy bags under her eyes and the relaxing time was all for naught. "Yeah—" She paused and straightened. "Actually, no. I'm fucking terrified." She looked to her shaking hands, unable to stop the motion. "I'm not cold, but I'm shaking like hell. I know we've categorized those other killers as cold-blooded…well, murderers, but…"

The athlete felt something much more hideous holding onto the white-masked Myers as he stalked. The idea of him even looking at her brought sweat along her spine.

"He scares me more than what those other few ever could have. Sure, they're terrifying, but _him…"_

Dwight grabbing her hand caused her to jump, but only for a moment as he began to tug her and the botanist along as gently as he could. Meg stole a glance at looking at his hands and, not once, did she find his fingers nor wrists shaking out of fear. For another rare, blue moon moment, Dwight was taking a leadership role and moving forward with little—hell, with no hesitation!

For a moment, Meg found herself to be admiring this pizza manager.

"Come on, let's keep going," he replied. "If we don't, then we will surely be in a worse position. Let's find the doors, start up the generators, or even the hatch. Somehow, I feel as if we won't get lucky a second time with it." With a soft and tender voice, he led them both towards the nearest generator.

Claudette and Meg shared glances for a moment before deciding to, bluntly, cut the crap and work as hard as they could. They couldn't afford to fall behind one another if it was for their sake of survival.

It was very little time into it did Meg glance up. Something felt wrong. Off. Claudette clearly felt the same way and was quickly turning white in the face. It was clearly visible as the tint of her lips slowly faded into sick pale color. Honestly, it was a shock to see.

Dwight looked up, his glasses glinting slightly in the light of the moon and the flashing lights of those police vehicles. "Keep going. We're nowhere near done yet."

"Dwight," the blogger muttered, having to pull her hands away as they were trembling violently, "I-I have to stop. I feel- I feel awful." Clutching her gut, the female tore herself away from the generator and purely vomited up anxiety, nausea and stress right into one of the gardens of the many homes of Lampkin Lane. Meg removed herself instantly from the machine to sprint to her, holding her bangs away from her face and patting her back.

Keeping to himself, Dwight stayed on the generator, though was clearly worried. Meg could practically read his face of worry of "Was I too mean?" It was the way he pinched his lips and became fidgety did she understand he was losing his sense of being good at something.

"Keep working, Dwight. We're nowhere near done yet," Meg called, giving a quick smile of reassurance as she recycled his words on him. To her relief, he paused in his work and smiled in return before looking back at the wiring through his greasy fingers.

And then, something happened. A noise of familiarity filled the air, with a tune matching the horror they had felt then as they worked. Even if one has never seen the Halloween movies, one knows the theme song. With the sound of crackling radios flipping stations, their attention had been caught just before the theme— _his theme—_ played through the radios like an awful reminder of something to come.

"What was that?" Claudette gasped, hearing the tune embed itself into the air for only a few seconds of agony before the distant tunes turned back. They all shared a glance around before Dwight spoke softly, confirming their previous fears.

"He's here."

All at once, Meg felt as if their gaze finally met on the foreign object creating this uneasy air. Something was manipulating the area and maybe...

She glanced skyward for a moment, wondering if she would see a leering face up above in the sky, along with those spindly legs that hooked onto prey. Not a face, nor a glowing eye of red could be seen from here, not even the single trace of shadows that shifted like wispy smoke. So then, what was this feeling that they were feeling?

Claudette's scream brought her back to reality, making her head whip over towards the sound. It was as instinctive as a reaction from a meerkat family giving out warnings for others and despite how they wished to remain humane, they certainly felt like animals.

The hunter was there with his face of white, merely peering around the edge of the perfect white house with eyes that were darker than manmade obsidian. Like a statue, he merely stood, feet as unshaken as the stakes of an iron fence as Meg felt horror swell inside of her at a speed she never thought could happen. The ever-grinning mask of the Trapper, the rag-doll movements of the Nurse, nor even the chainsaw of the Hillbilly could instill this into her.

There was something _wrong_ with this man.

Wasting little time, the three turned on their heels and ran. Meg turned so sharply that she felt the grass from beneath her feet kick up, causing her to slide temporarily before she thrusted herself forward after her companions.

Just like that, they split up. There was no way that they could all stay in one area unless they all wanted to die. Meg thought of this, but Dwight was the first to make verbal note of it by raising his voice.

"We'll meet up later. Just be sure to do your best!"

Meg didn't say anything, but glanced once more at them before tearing off down the sidewalk. Her footsteps were louder than what she wanted, but goddamnit, she couldn't afford to slow down! A panic was settling into her core as she turned and sprinted up the nearest porch. The cement slapped beneath her feet before she felt her soles kiss the wooden floor just before she darted into the nearest closet, just now hearing the music shift again to his theme again. A horrible reminder.

The metal was cold against her body as she closed the door. She attempted to be speedy and as quiet as possible by shutting the door fast but letting it click softly at the very end. In silence, she ducked down and put her face in her hands, shivering violently.

 _This feeling—I'm going to die, oh my God, I'm going to—_

The heartbeat thumped in her ears once, then twice, and then once more just as the shadow of Myers collected itself just above her frame. Meg didn't dare look up out of fear, even though it was useless. It was truly in vain as he opened the door with a soft squeal of the rusted and chunky hinges.

A cold hand gripped at her hair, turning it once around between his fingers. She threw her hands up to his hand, feeling the frozen fingers entwine themselves once again before he pushed her face into the wood. His grip wouldn't resist in the slightest as he dug his knuckles deeply into her scalp, forcing her nose to painfully smash into the ground.

"No! Fuck, goddamnit, no!" She couldn't tear away as he placed his knee on her back, forcing her furthermore into the floor of the closet.

Her screams reached only those nearby as warmth flooded from her back towards the floor. Like a cloak of crimson, the blood spread from her back towards the floor from stab after stab after stab.

The screams died away slowly with a simple choking noise as Meg was unable to survive the brutality, blood rising to her throat and forcing her to shut up.

Death was not so inviting as she laid lifeless.

Michael stood slowly, looking upward towards the spider legs of the Entity that delicately ran the tips down Meg's coated back.

 _Well done, Michael Myers. Such a good boy for me. That's right. Catch them all. Leave your little sister for last._

Michael turned his neck towards the rooftops of the homes, eyeing Laurie fixing a generator with a focused and beautiful face.

 _Look how beautiful she is. A perfect kill that will satisfy you again, and again. No one else can. A euphoria waits for you. You can have her once I get the rest. Now be a good boy and find them all. Kill them all._

With a crack of his knuckles as he gripped the kitchen knife ever tighter, he began to stalk the next person that he could find, looking for anyone that could still scream for the Entity.

For once, Meg had been correct.

* * *

ｈａｐｐｙ ｈａｌｌｏｗｅｅｎ


	12. Slaughter

Dwight could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. His heart hammered up in his voice box, forcing his wails of emotional pain to become drowned out into barely anything at all. It made him feel all the more pitiful, to not even be able to mourn openly for the friend of his he had come to trust with all of his might.

Ace gripped his shoulder with rough fingers, his eyes peering from over his shades with a look of almost fatherly concern. His eyes, which had seen much more than what Dwight had, were sparkling faintly with a pity for the boy beside him.

"Dwight, we need to move. Now." Dwight nearly felt his head roll back behind his shoulders, as if his limbs were that of a newborn kitten's. A numbing sensation crawled over his fingertips as he lifted his head, tears streaming down like an unending river. "We can't sit here and mourn. We have to go. Now."

Ace was right but all he could see behind his eyelids was the godforsaken sight of Meg, lifeless and slit open like a lone deer. The numbness spread to his knees as he was hauled upward to his feet into a more proper crouch, Ace leading him along by the front of his filthy shirt. As they moved, an air of sympathy and despair hung over them both like a miasma, stinging their lungs and muffling their senses.

The ex-manager found his footing, soon patting at Ace's hand to tell him he was okay before responding verbally, "I'm okay." Using the back of his hand, he wiped at his eyes from under his glasses, knowing the steam will eventually go away if he stopped thinking about Meg.

She would come back.

Right?

Licking his lips, Dwight followed behind the older man with less grace to latch onto the nearby generator. The man kept talking to him in a low tone as happy-go-lucky Halloween themes played from the radio's of the house that they had sat by.

"Start thinking of an escape plan. Can you jump over fences? Can you hide in lockers without making a noise? Can you run around a bend faster than Mikey?" Dwight stopped working for a moment, completely caught off-guard by the nickname for the dead-panned serial killer. Ace noticed the silence and looked up, soon snickering and glancing back down with his cap bill covering his eyes furthermore.

"Hey, just a name. You know what they say. 'Say his name enough times and he'll appear right behind ya.'" A feeling of paranoia clung to his stomach, causing him to turn around to look over his shoulder nervously. Nothing. Not a heartbeat, a rustle, nor a white face.

The boy sat himself a bit more closely to the generator, feeling uneasy no matter where he looked or did. He merely focused on the contraption as best as he could, his fingers quivering like small sticks in a hot burn pile.

Ba-thump.

He stopped in his work and spun around, his heart moving back up into his throat with swift speed, so much so he felt the urge to vomit. Just nearby was Claudette, her back against the corner of a white-sided house as she waited. Given by the direction of where she was looking, that was where he was. Dwight frowned. Judging by the way he was coming, the killer must have looped around the house and was now coming right back without a single bat of an eye.

Ace wasted little time and pushed Dwight's backside, hissing "Move!" before moving to duck down low in the bushes and other shrubbery. Catching his footing, the ex-manager tore off between the perfect picket fences. With that heartbeat starting to ring in his chest and his ears, it meant only several things. Michael Myers was not far from his current destination.

Dwight passed by car after car, hoping to stray away from the sounds of imminent death. Even though he had never been hooked before, there was a feeling of empathy he had felt with Meg and Claudette, becoming hooked for- What was it? The Entity.

He stole a glance upward, eyeing the darkened sky as it swallowed Haddonfield like an endless black hole of the galaxy. There was not a single star, much less any moonlight. All he could see was the flickering lights of the streetlamps and the shining police lights. Sparkling crimson and blue, they flashed like warning signs, even as the heartbeat finally died away. With a fearful gasp to collect his nerves, he began to find the nearest generator and get down to work.

As he came upon it, sparks flew, hot and red with the intent of burning his hands. A large dent was in the side but it somehow remained working. Was this someone's shoe print on the side of the old metal? Whatever it was, it had stopped the contraption from further working. He set to work on it, matching the wires, untangling the pipes and clearing out any oil spills. Honestly, the oil and gas would probably be so stained into his clothes that they wouldn't wash out for weeks. Even more so from his nose.

As the final piston began to gradually move, the heartbeat started like an awful hymn of Hell. Dwight felt fear and determination swell within him, a part of him becoming merely uneasy with just leaving this generator like this, nearly done and then left to deterioration.

Dwight kept working, thrusting his hands further into the metal workings to get into the worst gunk. Congealed oil and rusted slowly began to compile up beneath his nails, with the stench of mold causing him to shove his nose and mouth against his bicep. It was an awful smell but he had to get it done, even though he could feel the intensity of death right on his shoulder.

The heartbeat didn't go away but neither did it speed up with anticipation of death. Sweat began to crawl over his lower lip and behind his neck, his fingers beginning to shake.

"Come on, come on... Work with me you stupid-"

In a brilliant explosion of light from above, the generator turned on, illuminating a wide spotlight on the street. With a quiver in his knees, Dwight moved to a stand and began to look around, eyeing any high shrubs or the spaces between concrete and parked cars.

He worried no more as he saw Michael, standing still behind a tree with black eyes and his bloodied knife in hand. A terrified squeal left him, piercing the air as he realized the man had merely been stalking him from just the other side of the street for however long he had pleased and Dwight hadn't even decided to look around at his surroundings.

The male tore off so fast he stumbled right into a fence. The edges dug deeply into his stomach and hips, leaving large scratch marks of red as he fell over the other side, his hands digging into the grass. Streaks of oil blackened the cold grass as he stumbled to a stand, lunging up the steps to the closed door of a home. He latched onto the knob and used whatever adrenaline he had left to try and tear the door off the hinges or push it open but his heart sinking, there was no way he could get past the lock from the inside.

His hands slipped across the old handle, causing him to curse as he tried twice to knock it down with his shoulder then his foot. With it jarred open enough, he could see the chain to the door, locking it from the inside. Without even beginning to ponder how far away Michael was, he shoved his hands through the small gap and reached for the locked chain. If he could get through this door and loop around the furniture, he would have a chance!

As his fingers touched the icy cold lock, success lodged itself into his throat for just a moment until it was replaced by a feeling he couldn't describe. It was as cold as dread but lodged deeply into his chest. A white hand silently placed itself next to his head before sweeping smoothly across the rough wood for the knob. Dwight watched his fingers wrap around the metal piece before Michael slammed it shut on his wrists. The sound of crunching bones and the sheer pain caused him to scream. All feeling was lost in his fingers with little time but came back violently as the door slightly opened and then was shut again, fully breaking both of his wrists.

Dwight's scream was lost as the blade sliced through his right lung, then past his rib cage and into the sternum. Once then twice. All white pain began to cease as his body dropped, the last feeling of sweet release dripping from his lips.

Michael watched him drop, wrists mangled by the door and the life in his eyes gone.

 _A fine job. What a beautiful soul to keep for me. All mine to gnaw and consume until I watch them bleed again. Your next target is nearby. No, no. It is not she. Not yet. Only when the doors open do you have a chance._

 _Your princess will come to you. I can promise that._

* * *

A feeling of disbelief washed over Ace as he heard Dwight's screams. Never before had this man experienced terror like this. There was only times when he had witnessed it when a bet of his money washed all of his chips away, all of the coin vanishing to another man of business. But this was different.

Meg was gone. Dwight was surely dead. In his arms now was Nea, her throat swollen already from the tourniquet that crushed her windpipe. Gore spilled from his open stomach, so much so that Ace felt his hands tremble. The man was killing these kids left and right. He wasn't even sure if Jake, Claudette or Laurie were okay.

"I'm sorry, kid. I wish I could have saved you." He set Nea down, pulling off her beanie to lay it over her face. "I'll see you at the campfire." Never before did he have this much hope brewing in his gut like this, like fermented beer that needed to come out. There was little to rely on now except the last few generators. With a glance up, he could see three were on. Even now, that wasn't that many, forcing him to stomach everything he had seen and get back to work on the previous generator he had been chased from.

The crunch of leaves behind him, midway of his work, caused him to jump. So much so that a loud spark of an explosion triggered the generator. He cursed and looked up from the ground, seeing a horrified Claudette. She was eyeing Nea, without any doubt in Ace's mind, but now they couldn't afford to stick around. Moving to his feet, he grabbed her arm and began to run for the backyard of a home, hoping to duck within the rose bushes and remain as incognito as possible.

"A-Ace?" Her voice quivered like badly strummed strings. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

Oh how he wanted to say that they would make it out alive. It was so easy to just say things but even he had regrets. This awful feeling that wouldn't go away had penetrated deep within his voice as he spoke as naturally as possible. "Just keep your head down."

The two nestled themselves into the corners of the fence, hiding well behind the bushes that pricked at their faces and hands. Open skin in this area was almost as painful as getting a generator blown up in your face. Then again, neither one was fun as they sat and waited.

Ace eyed the sky, looking around for any nearby generators. However, there wasn't a single lamp in sight that would indicate the location of a possible generator. Though it was not unusual, it was still unfortunate as they waited with baited breath, listening to the heartbeat pound with no remorse against their sternums. Once the killer had supposedly passed by, Ace grabbed the shaking botanist by her right sleeve and began to stumble quietly out of the shrubs, watching for a white face. Despite how Mikey was a full-grown beast of a man, his white face still made him blend in well with the white decor of these perfect homes.

The two made their way around, watching the crows and the hooks that seemed to have no need in being there. The man seemed to kill not out of spite nor greed, but simply because he was looking for Laurie. Myers stalked the grounds, watching for movement that could possibly be his sister and anything else that happened to catch his eye was doomed to death for the Entity. If they were even working together, of course, but he wasn't so sure. Nothing coordinated as to why this man was here but there was also a certain idea that Ace would have to be prepared for anything.

Claudette whispered the gambler's to get his attention. As he turned to her, she mutely pointed to a silent generator, which sat quietly near the road and covered in vines. Though it was impossible for it to have sat there for eons, Ace ultimately decided that he shouldn't question anything in this horror film.

Second after second ticked by as they worked, grime reaching up to their wrists and making slippery fingers even more opportune to slipping up and cracking the generator to a blazing spark. No matter what, they couldn't afford a single slip-up. Keeping their wits about them, they kept an eye out for the white face that danced among the leafless limbs of trees.

Ace felt his heart skip a bit as the radios played the dreaded theme. However, there was a slight difference. Ace raised an eyebrow, catching the different tune. What the hell did that mean? Maybe it was just being weird?

Two of the four pistons began to work, proving that the generator was halfway done just as Laurie climbed over a picket fence, ducking down low to cross the street. Ace stole a glance towards her, watching her eyes glimmer with hope and determination, even as her hands were coated in blood and oil. Whether teammate or foe, there was no reason he should question as the three began to work in silence, their emotions mingling into a thought cloud that shared the same heat of the sparking wires.

"So, Laurie," Ace muttered, "ever fixed a genny before?"

The blond looked up at him, a sudden innocence coming over her features before she shook her head sheepishly. "No. I've rarely ever done something like this. I'm sure you have."

A quiet grin spread over his grizzled face before he quietly laughed. "Nope, not a day in my life." Both girls became wide-eyed and particularly slack-jawed. "What? Just because I have a couple years of old under my belt doesn't mean I've done everything under the son, girls."

Laurie looked to Claudette. "What about you?"

The female shook her head. "No. I've...I've only ever messed with plants, not mechanics."

Ace observed the third piston moving now. This was progress as he figured the chit-chat would speed up their nervous hands. They worked more fluidly and less on adrenaline now. As they quietly spoke, their eyes glanced around; down the street, through the windows, around the bushes and along the rooftops. Not a sight of the madman. Not yet at least.

The choir from the radios started up with his theme once more, the pitch changing once again, but with more volume and noise than the first or the original. He watched them stop and he quickly cleared his throat. "Hey, let's go. Don't waste any time." Though his tone was gruff, he tried to be as gentle-sounding as he could as he turned to look at the pistons. They only had a little bit left to go...

Silence muffled their words, though small conversation was made on the idea who they were. Sorrow filled Ace's heart as the idea of Michael catching all of them captured itself like a gruesome photo behind his eyelids. Everytime he blinked, there Mikey stood, clutching the iconic knife with his face of white staring at the heap of bodies; the kids he had already gotten attached to. They were a brilliant team, with so much for their future, even though they didn't know it yet. Yet, here they were, to live a nightmarish life. Ace could understand himself being here to at least a degree, but not these kids.

The light of the generator brought himself out of his thoughts, causing him to look up at the brightened shade with a little bit of hope in his heart. From the distance, with the howl of the exit gates, another generator blossomed across the many homes of Haddonfield. Claudette was the first to move.

"Let's go. That must have been Jake, or-or Dwight!" She nodded with determination, so much so that his heart ached. What was he going to say to her when they got to the exit gates and no one else was there?

"But-" Ace turned, looking at Laurie who had such doe-like eyes his chest burned. "I..." she began, soon trailing, "What about Michael? Won't he be able to?"

Claudette began to move to a stealthy march, motioning for Ace and Laurie to follow. Ace grinned, feeling her determination as he lowered himself closer to the ground. The botanist began to explain as they went along the empty, flashing street.

"No. They've always stopped at the exit gate once we get out of their ground. We don't know why but we believe a bit that it's because there's a certain ground of safety outside each area. Which, of course, is past the exit gates."

Ace nodded slightly, showing he understood until he began to think back. He could only remember escaping through the hatch thanks to Nea. A cringe cloaked over him as he remembered her swollen face. The poor girl suffered until death, that was something he felt in his gut.

"Do you know what stops them, Claudette?" Laurie asked. With confidence came the response.

"The Entity. A being that has called murderers and poltergeists. As well as us. Don't know why yet, but...it's like this is a game to them." She interrupted herself by pointing. "There! The exit!"

Ace began to view around the picket fences and homes, eyeing for the face of ghoulish alabaster. The handle hissed as the old mechanism began to unlock from within. Though it was satisfying, the lack of Mikey's theme and heartbeat put him off quite a bit. Where was he? Surely he knew of the reason of the giant, iron doors and the broken generators.

With a screech, the door began to slowly open up. Feeling sweat hugging the entirety of his back, the man moved forward and grabbed at Claudette's wrist, knowing she was looking for the others. He was tempted to ignore her tugging and complaints but he decided it would be better to put her mind to a naive rest. Ace looked at her from over his shoulder, smiling a little.

"They're probably at another exit. Come on, we need to go. If this is open, they'll come too." She seemed to relax a little but still seemed reluctant. Regardless, she nodded and began to follow him into the open plain.

As they walked, Ace turned his head over his shoulder. For once, he could hear his heart beat hard all on its own as Michael stood behind Laurie, all hope on her face leaving her bone structure, tears staining her face like rain.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to desperately claw back to try and do something. The urge to crawl through the dusty grass to just simply retrace his steps and save her. He gritted his teeth and turned away, running with a frightened Claudette back to the blackness before them all.

How did he not hear Michael's heartbeat? Why wasn't there a noise!? Not a scream, not a word, not a sound...

Ace did not dare turn back to face a Michael Myer's and his sister's corpse. There was something simply too painful about the pictures and events behind his eyes that brought his teeth grinding together.

No matter what, no apology felt clean. Not now, not ever.


	13. Gagging on Mud

Was this what Jesus felt like when nailed to the cross? It was a draining process, where everything felt numb save for the pointed leg that danced beneath his chin, a voice cooing at him like an old foe who wanted him long since dead.

 _Have you finally tired, forest dweller? Really, you inflicted those wounds upon yourself. You have only to blame yourself. So wipe that sneer off of your face before I do so myself._

Jake gritted his teeth, turning his face away from the point that trailed up to his mouth for emphasis. As he did, he felt his wire-wrapped wrists and ankles burn, throbbing against the hot wiring that fastened him to the wall like an ornament.

 _Now, you will make your choice, or maybe I should remove hang you out like fresh food._

Slowly emerging from the darkness was a wide web of red, dripping in the middle with blood. There were small, coin-like pieces that sat in the thick webbing. Some had the icons of flashlights, boxes, medical kits, toolboxes and more.

 _Do you like it? Give me something in return and I can give you three things, perhaps. However, you will obtain more if you entertain me._

"We are your playthings."

A thick rumble of a laugh bellowed from the darkness, as if it were distant thunder.

 _And if you wish to stay alive in some form, then you will keep making this game of mine good to watch. I want to feel the thrill as you run, the pain of tripping and the fresh salt from the tears of your fallen friends. I want you to **bleed** for me, over and over again!_

The cackle came fresh from the darkness, the tip at his chin pulling away. A hearty laugh this one was that rang louder than what Jake felt was necessary. Suddenly, painfully, the wire retracted like the fangs of a snake and he was left to fall, slamming into the cold, black ground.

With a groan, he looked up. Thousands of small eyes slowly opened from their hidden lids, staring at him with an uncomfortable realness that he felt his skin crawl beneath every hair. The blood web pulsed, forcing his eyes over towards it, wanting him to choose with the blood that seeped from his once-bound wrists.

 _Bleed for me._

* * *

Meg opened her eyes with a gasp. An endless laughter made her heart quiver as it rang deep into her skull and it didn't even stop as she pulled up from mud, the murky fluid having slipped down her throat. The athlete doubled over with a gagging noise, attempting to wretch up the filthy fluid but to no real avail. All she ended up removing from some grime of possible algae.

 _Where am I?_ She looked up, eyeing the rolling fog that soaked her skin slowly just from standing still. The smell of moss and mold breached her nostrils, causing her to curl away before she pulled her shirt up around her nose, wanting to avoid gagging again. The stench was foul as it was so she didn't need to add vomit to the disgusting junction. But then again, there were probably worse things back at home than here.

"Meg."

The female spun around so fast she let her fist fly. Jake raised his hand just in time to catch her fist, holding it in his palm. In that temporary silence of uneasiness, Meg slowly relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief as her hair fell around her shoulders again.

"Jake! Thank God." She pulled her hand away and he let go, his gentleness still being quite the shock since he wasn't exactly the gentle-looking type. She spoke again, moving to braid her hair into a single piece, as they likely had no time to meander around for her to throw every piece in line. Then again, she was never really good at that unless it was fast-paced. Anything careful wasn't necessarily her strong point. "I didn't see you after we split up at Haddonfield. Did you... Did you make it?"

The male glanced to one side, motioning for her to follow him. The mud sucked at his shoes as he walked, eyeing the fog that fluttered. "So, you didn't, then. That might be way we're not...at the camp."

She watched him suddenly shudder, as if he had experienced something awful. It was a surprise, since he was such a quiet man, she figured very little bothered him.

"True," she mumbled. For a moment, as she followed him, she could only remember that hollow, fixed gaze of the notorious, infamous serial killer that was Michael Myers. The blade that had been so sharp to pierce well into her spinal cord and left her for dead. How many did he kill? Were they the only ones here or were there more? What if everyone had been slaughtered?

He made a noise between his lips, causing her to look up from the foggy swamp. A generator winked at them both, beckoning them over in some strange way. Then again, Meg didn't need to be told twice to repair the sucker. It was, at this rate, everyone's lifeline, including hers.

It was quiet as they worked, causing Meg to pinch her lips nervously. Something was wrong, really wrong. But what was it?

As she pulled wires up between her fingers, she took sight of a wire that trembled right next to her hand. Nervously, she moved to grab it, bumping the side of it with her knuckle against the generator that was almost part way to being finished. Like a bomb, it blew up right in her face, causing her arms to come up and drop the shitty wire.

Jake turned to her, clearly startled. "Meg, goddamnit, why did you do that!?" His voice remained at a hiss and she almost combated against the soft tone with a yell. At the last moment, she turned it down to a growl.

"Excuse me, but one of the wires surged. I wasn't expecting it to be so sudden." Jake relaxed slightly. Meg watched his expression move from one of irritation to another of contemplation. Wires didn't usually have a surge on their own unless tampered with. What was that?

As the familiar heartbeat began to echo, she grabbed his jacket by the arm and dragged him behind several, wilting trees and bushes. Once they rounded the trunk and she grabbed his wrist to pull him down, he gasped and bite hard into his lower lip. She let go.

"Are you...are you okay?" Seeing him in such pain was abnormal. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, crouching close to her while keeping his wrists away from himself. A slight line of red was visible from the inside of his coat sleeves, but Meg said nothing. If she disturbed him on the topic again, he probably would have simply snipped at her again. Something was wrong but she couldn't ask yet.

The sudden screech of metal being clawed at made her stiffen, Jake's face revealing the same thoughts. It was as though someone was ripping apart a sheet of metal from a car door. The noise stopped as quick as it came, the heartbeat was almost a familiar cushion when it came to that awful squeal.

As she compared the noises, her knees went weak as the surrounding mud as a the killer walked past. There was no way this thing was _not_ a killer. The way those long, knife-like nails raked across the ground, the way the lips dried up into nonexistence and those sunken eyes scanned for them. Bark-like skin pinched and hugged every rib, every wrist bone and along the sternum. Every bone protruded in some way, revealing even the hip bones that were snug in what was left of possible clothing.

Meg watched the red stain flicker in front of her eyes before disappearing with the trot of the killer, her breath stale in her chest. Whatever this killer was, she didn't want to touch them in any way. However, something told her she would eventually.

As the monster crawled away on bony feet, she crouched away from the tree and began to move back towards the generator. It rumbled slightly from their previous work but sparked dangerously, hissing in different places and almost seeming to be hardly salvageable. Jake moved to her side, staring to wordlessly work beside her.

Goosebumps crawled on her skin as she worked, chewing on her upper lip, lost in thought until Jake twitched suddenly. Meg looked over, seeing his eyes widen until he looked up, having grabbed fiercely at a sparking wire so hard that he clearly burnt a hole in his glove.

"It's bewitched."

Meg blinked. What did he just say? One of the most asocial, gruff and down-to-earth guy was talking about witchcraft? Did he finally kick the bucket in some way?

He sighed. "I get what you're thinking. But hear me out. Wires don't do things like that _on their own._ I'm no technician, but..." He let go of the wire, a wisp of smoke rising from the burn in the fabric. "There is something really wrong. And I think that might be a witch or someone who used to dabble in Satanic rituals."

"Ah, wonderful. Sounds like good ol' CNN news." She snorted and focused on the generator for a moment, eyeing the second piston. It was finally beginning to move. It seemed that the old contraption was working fine. So whatever it was that happened earlier easily could have been a fluke. Meg didn't believe in any of that notion.

Jake said nothing and simply began to flip through the journal Claudette had found back in those awful cornfields. She clicked her tongue along the front of her teeth before turning back to the generator, wrapping some of the wires together and then tucking them in. It winked once and then began to help itself along with moving the third piston. She licked at her lips before reaching deep within the belly of the generator.

"There are pages that are filled now."

Meg turned her head so fast she felt her braid hit her jawline. "What? Do you mean the-"

"The empty ones, yes." He then turned the book around as she slowly screwed a bolt into the device, watching pages in the book slowly fill up with ink. It was like watching something from Harry Potter unfold right in front of her eyes.

"How... How is that possible?"

Jake turned it back to him and began to read, a hand coming up to his chin. "Because we're finally getting to know them. We may have barely touched anything at all." He tapped the blank pages that still had yet to fill up at all. Meg felt the blood drain a little from her cheeks. How much farther could they go?

A scream sounded from the distance. With it being so high-pitched, Meg almost felt completely sure that it was-

"I'll go check it out," Jake muttered, standing and shoving the book into his pocket. "You stay here and finish the generator. Get some done as much as you can so we'll at least hear it chugging oil." They shared a glance. Meg could see the exhaustion clinging to his eyes until he turned away, moving to find Dwight.

She sighed and turned back to the generator. It was only a few long seconds that passed before she heard the heartbeat. The female tipped her head upward, looking for the grey mass of a killer. Catching the low top of its head, she ducked downward and hurriedly made her way to the tree again, her head down low again. A little piece of her swayed towards the lovely idea that they weren't seen. It was like the way an ostrich perceived safety by not seeing the enemy. That little part prayed just long enough for her to peer through the split between the tree and then die away with a scream of distress.

Meg pivoted and ran around the tree, hoping to gain distance from her new pursuer that wouldn't let her touch the generator for over a minute. It was extremely annoying but there was nothing she could do but run for it, even through the sloppiest of mud that was freelancing up to her ankles.

As she ran, she recalled the first chase she had before with The Trapper. In all honesty, he probably scared her the most, with the way he never ran but simply walked. It was a concept similar to Myers' strut. With this in mind, she slipped between a v-shaped tree trunk, feeling the back of her neck tingle with the anticipation. An irritable snarl echoed after her maneuvers, clearly peeved at her way of running. It almost amused her with how it brought her back to the idea that people hated the way she ran. Her way of running was not delicate but she kept her heels off the ground, using only the front of her feet. It kept her balanced as the heel would only roll and not do much good at all. With this annoyed beast behind her, a little bit of motivation caught hold of her and she darted forward.

A large boat, having long since sunk into the mud, was her next route of planning. Judging by the size, there were multiple ways to give this bastard the slip. Though, she did question its existence, and how it possibly could have managed to get here.

Using her sprint burst, she pivoted up a flight of stairs, looking back just once to notice the red stain fully in bloom just several feet behind her.

 _Was that what Dwight was talking about? The Red Stain? It looks awful when you're in front of it._

She turned forward, throwing her hands up to grab at the leaning palette and slamming it down into the beast's face. With the wood swinging down, Meg watched only for a moment as it hit its head, forcing it down into the floor of the ship so hard she heard its head thunk like a coconut on a kitchen countertop. Using her toes, she pushed off against the palette and burst forward, only to feel her karma of the ship's second staircase being completely broken. With a shriek, she fell several feet and then landed on her side, her shoulder digging into the floor.

"Fuck!" An ungodly popped sounded hard into her right ear, inflammation winding up her arm as fast as a snake's venomous bite. Acting on impulse, she moved to a crouch, rolling her shoulder and regretting it measurably. However, another pop sounded. Satisfied, she nodded and ran.

"Could be worse, Meg, could be worse," she muttered, moving to crouch behind some old structures while holding her shoulder. "Could be your ankle, then you'd _really_ be fucked, wouldn't you?" She observed the creature stumbling towards the stairs but stopping as soon as they didn't see Meg, much less the stairs. With numerous hissing and squealing noises echoing even from here, it lumbered off just in time for a generator to tower high a little ways away from a small boat.

Shoving her feet into the dirt, she moved to look over the clutter, eyeing a bleeding Dwight, Jake, and Nea fleeing in random directions. Dwight's shoulder was bleeding immensely, more than likely from the piercing of a meathook. The athlete shuddered in remembrance before she ducked down, moving to a crouch in hopes of finding the generator she and Jake had previously begun working on.

 _L ook a t tho se wo n d er ful leg s of yo ur s. . ._

Her head snapped up, tremors moving down her legs fast enough to cause goosebumps. "You again," she hissed. "What do you want, you shadowey bastard?" A symphony of chuckles sounded from the back of her head but it ended as soon as it stopped.

Feeling protective of her limbs, she tucked her arms closer against her chest in her crouch as she moved along, knees wanting to hide beneath her breasts. Was there something with her legs that was just so special or was it trying to get under her nerves? Regardless, the idea of someone marveling her legs like uncooked meat was something that made her extremely uncomfortable. It was almost sounded like a fetish to her.

As she pressed her back against the old boards, she took a temporary break, looking around for any flashing lights that were paired against the grey sky. Somehow, she could still see those blinking bulbs despite the lighter atmosphere. It was almost soothing.

She moved to stand with the encouragement of the swamp breeze, which smelled putrid, the rustling of paper caught her attention. The blond glanced down, soon crouching once again and reaching out. The pinch of pain in her right shoulder caused her to stop and pull it back, letting it rest on her knee while her left hand picked up a corner of a piece of paper. Very gently, she removed it from the muck and mud, eyeing the worn lettering.

Some of the lettering was still illegible and at the top-

"Benedict Baker!" That was the guy, right? With the journal? This must be another page! She turned it around to see the back, taking note of the old blood stains that was nearly covered by soaked dirt. Using the reeds, she wiped it as clean as she could, waved it around slowly to air dry the rest, then folded it in half and put it in her back pocket. Hopefully, she could make it out alive now. Something told her that if she died, she would lose what she had.

A bubble of thoughts occupied her head as she looked around, taking into account of where the wall was, where she could hide, and what she could do if the killer was somewhere close.

Aching minutes passed until she heard the stuttering of the previous generator just a few feet away from her. As she approached, she took extra care with both her arm and the dangerous wisps of wires that seemed to simply come apart, impede progress, and make noise. It also hurt like hell to try and catch them, so she didn't. The sparks fluttered around, but Meg didn't let it touch the old hunk of junk. It was still so strange to see these wires doing something that they shouldn't but she couldn't bring herself to trust what Jake said. That was too much foolishness. Maybe he was more affected than what she thought.

With a final tug, the generator spawned to life like a happy lightning bug. Meg nodded and took the time to escape the area as quickly as possible.

"That's... two, then?" She crouched in the grass, avoiding any weight on her right arm as she listened. Once the heartbeat didn't come around, she decided to tuck herself more securely beside the tree she had previously attempted to hide within.

A ghoulish figure rose from the weeds and mud, stretching its gangling limbs towards her. Instinctively, she screamed and flung herself away, digging her heels hard into the mud to sprint her forward in a single burst. No matter how much she wanted it, that burst didn't come without consequences.

Her shadow shined beneath her feet and then slowly stretched in front of her, brightly dyed red like an awful aura of death. She gritted her teeth, getting braced for the feeling of infected nails raking down her back.

That didn't happen. Instead, the beast tackled her to the ground, happily snarling and panting by her ear. Mud filled her mouth as she tried to struggle, tasting tire and oil as she choked. Bile rose up in a single clump which she merely spat out, tasting the acid in her throat mixing with crude, slick oil.

"Mine," it whispered. "All mine, mine, mineeEEE!"

Meg looked over her shoulder, her heart sinking as the mouth pried open. Teeth were crooked, broken and sharpened in many ways, as if this figure was capable of rendering flesh from bone like a true animal of instinct.

She screamed and gave another attempt at shrugging it off, her shoulder burning in pain. A burst of light interrupted the oncoming bite, being so heavy that she felt the weight of what seemed like a ton carry away the creature from her shoulders. The air quivered and wavered like hot air from a car hood, steaming in several locations before fading away.

Meg sat up on her hands, crawling away with a limp to get as far away as she could. Lace brushed her hand and she cowered away, feeling her face getting hot from the tears unconsciously spilling down her face.

The Nurse floated quietly beside her, her left arm raised and glowing as brightly as the inside of a Jack-O-Lantern. Her soft gasps and wheezes faintly sounded from her hooded frame, even as she turned to look at Meg. The glow left her hand for a moment, but as she stretched it out towards the athlete, Meg felt something hold her arms. From the mud, she was lifted as gently as if she were a small child having gotten knocked over at the playground.

"You bitch!" Meg swung her head around so fast she felt her neck crack. Was she really so stiff?

Rising from the mud was the bony corpse, sunken eyes aflame with hatred. With a finger, she pointed at the nurse. "You dare take away my meal? When it was directly given to me by our Entity?" The nurse gave no response, causing the anger to rise further. "Ya think _I_ should be punished for wantin' my food early? Like _they_ don't deserve what's comin' to them!? How would you like it if I took away somethin' precious to you, huh!?"

Were they...fighting? Meg looked between them both. Though the Nurse was silent, the way she swayed and hovered like an old rag made her uneasy. Her silence was also dangerous as she gave no verbal or physical cues. In the distance, a generator was lit.

"Then WHEN!?" She jumped and watched the beast roam around, like a lion watching their food. "Ya stupid woman. This is a realm where we take what we want. We can use them over, and OVER again. This... This is MY domain, ya little witch!"

They lunged at the Nurse, jaw open and claws outstretched in fury. A glowing hand raised up in the silence and just like before, the beast was blown back by a supernatural force. It was hot, heavy and almost like a choking sensation. Meg was sure that if she had been hit by it, she would feel her ribcage opening up. The cannibal threw their fingers into the ground, sliding through the mud only temporarily. Once again, they attacked the floating woman.

Meg ran. She ducked down low and ran hard, seeing the fourth generator turning on only a few meters away. Sweat ran freely down her back, cold and hot at the same time. She didn't stop until she felt her knees collapse beneath her, causing her to slip and drop into the mud.

Nea's face gradually came into view, her nose bloodied and her eyes wide.

"Meg?"

"Witchcraft," she muttered, shivering. "It's witchcraft...I can't believe it, witchcraft... witch...witchcraft and...supernatural..."

"Meg, hey!"

"Witchcraft...witchcraft...witchcraft..."

* * *

Dwight pulled hard on the lever, watching the first bulb light up as red as the killer's stain. In his free hand was a toolbox, ready to be used for another generator. The one nearest to him was fully done, having been the last one that needed fixing in this relative vicinity.

Although, he just hoped he wasn't alone with only his aching shoulder. Being hooked twice was not the way he wanted to go out. Then again...neither was-

He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Jake standing there, as still as a statue. Dwight nearly screamed. "Jesus!"

"We don't have time to gawk," he muttered, Meg in his arms.

"Is...is she okay?" he whispered, looking up towards the male. Nea spoke up, her nose red and her fingers as oily as an engineer's.

"I wouldn't put it that way. The girl won't stop muttering about "witchcraft."" Dwight felt goosebumps crawl up his skin as the third bulb finally lit. "And I don't think she's the kind to be influenced by ghost stories."

Jake mutely shook his head, giving a non-verbal answer to the street member.

In silence, they went through the doors, listening to Meg's traumatized mutterings all the way to camp.

* * *

"I'm shtill mad at joo," the Hag muttered, shoveling raw birds and rabbits into her gullet like a madwoman. The Nurse said nothing as she overlooked the endless sea of fogged forest. Every now and then again, as the fog parted, she could see the far-off cornfield, the Macmillan Estate and the Asylum.

"You let them go." A voice with the rumble of an engine spoke, coming up behind her with an awful menace. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. "Why?"

The Hag responded, picking at her crooked teeth with a finger. "Somethin' about waitin' for the Blood Hunt. Did ya hear it from Boss, 'cause I sure didn't, Sally."

Silence filled the air as she didn't respond. She never truly did. In response to their anger and feelings of betrayal, how could she?

"For now," the muscled man growled, turning away from Sally, "we will watch the others work. Let us see how they fair with their own slaughter?"

In the silence of the endless world, they turned to watching a building that was not too far away, as it was a chosen map that they could watch. Electricity lined the floor, sparkling beautifully but with a deadly hiss that made her shudder.

 _An awful therapy..._ she thought. But, out of everyone there, there was someone she took quite a liking to. As he lit his cigarette and kept an eye on those younger than he, she couldn't help but admire him. Perhaps it was because he refused to go anywhere else if no one else was there.

Perhaps she simply like the old veteran. She may never know, but she will remember his name, just like she had with every patient.

William Bill Overbeck.


	14. Shocking Teamwork

Bill puffed openly on his cigarette, seeming to have no fear of the generator's sparking madness, unlike the other two that were with him. Despite the hectic scenario, he seemed to have no problem keeping his cool. Even as Quentin's side of the generator exploded to life, sending the exhausted boy sprawling away onto the marble floor. Feng hissed at him, her fingers shaking visibly as she scolded him.  
"Quentin, what are you doing?! You're going to get us killed."

Bill sighed, letting his breath come out as a cloud of cigarette smoke before he stood up.

"Leave the kid alone. He's exhausted." The veteran kneeled down in front of the side Quentin had been working on. "C'mere, kids. Let me show you how to work this thing." Both of them crowded around Bill, although Feng was mumbling something about how she could figure it out due to how it resembled game mechanics. Bill side-eyed her, rolled the cigarette to a corner of his mouth with his tongue, then focused back towards the machine.

Pointing fingers in the contraption's chest, he began to demonstrate what wires to put together, what they should look for when it gets close to sparking or when there were bastard problems of getting it to even function properly. So far, it was pretty straightforward and after some time, the generator sparked to life.

It was no victory as it merely put a spotlight on the white-tiled hallway. Quentin swallowed and Bill could see that he was ready to simply fall over with a snore. With a heavy hand, he hit the boy on the back to generate a quick shock. "Come on, kid. Let's keep going. We've got more things to do. I'll teach you what we figured out."

 _Ba-thump._

Immediately, Feng was crouching down and hiding in the corner of the nearest room, hoping to remain discreet against the wall of the facility. Bill hastily grabbed at the top of Quentin's shoulder and began to briskly walk through the hallway. He wasn't used to the damn heartbeat, really. The man could only remember how it felt in his own chest to have such a heartbeat just before it fluttered out with his dying breath. The veteran briefly recalled the taste of the last cigarette as the world had gone black.

It was supposed to be for good. To let those kids live longer and experience life just a little more, even if it was in a zombie apocalypse. Even the usually, punchable Francis was in a good spot in his heart. Things were not so different, really. Here he was, working on the machine he just saw before letting the world go, protecting kids who had no idea what they were doing. Like him, they were forced in here, but unlike him, they had no training. At all.

They ducked down swiftly behind the curtained gurney. It was a risky move, as their shoes and legs were still showing, but it was all they could do right now as they looked left and right, keeping themselves on their toes. Bill didn't risk the move to peer through a hole in the blue curtain, but Quentin certainly did. The boy visibly shuddered and pulled away after a long moment, a hand coming up to his mouth that shook like an open leaf on the window.

"There's…there's so much blood on the gurney. It looks like…like…" Bill decided to risk it briefly. It looked like an old horror film had happened on the bed, making his nose wrinkle and brows furrow.

"Looks like a pregnancy happened or some shit." The look Quentin gave him was almost absolutely priceless, even if it was no laughing matter.

"Bill!" Quentin hissed as if trying to go into a scold without actually using words. The veteran couldn't help but crack a grin, causing his cigarette to lift before he turned away, just in time to feel all of the hair on his neck and arms lifting high. He was almost certain his beard was turning into a pompom as the electrical charge sounded by the wall, then lit up the floor.

Feng screamed, causing the sleep-deprived boy to jump and cower away. Less than a second later, the girl was sprinting off down the hall, her hair clearly frizzing and her teeth chattering from the charge. Bill watched the red glow follow after her, like a searchlight coated in paint from a sorority's party. The beast followed suit only half a step behind, his awful smile causing him to twitch.

 _If only I had a damn gun_ , he thought, nearly biting the butt of his cigarette as the heartbeat faded. Feng slid over a dropped palette and then swerved down the next corridor, disappearing with the lunatic.  
Bill watched for a moment longer, taking a drag of his cigarette to see if his help was needed until he heard a generator click and sputter nearby. He whipped his head over out of instinct as if he was trying to aim the barrel of a shotgun in the next room over. Quentin was hard at work, keeping his hands steady on the pipes and bolts and leaving the rest of his body to shiver right into the molding carpet of grey.

The man had to give the kid props. Despite his awkward personality and state of fatigue, there was a certain air of leadership in him. Or confidence. It seemed he didn't want anyone else to get hurt while he tried to hide and avoid the monstrosity.

Bill joined him on the generator, just long enough to watch the second piston begin to move until he heard Feng scream again. After so long in combat, he knew that was the sound of pain, especially when she began violently cussing up a storm, despite her size and her child-like face.

Quentin stood up so fast that he proceeded to experience a dizzy spell until Bill set a hand on his shoulder, pushing back down to a crouch again.

"I want to help!" Quentin complained, trying to stand up against the veteran's hand.

He shook his head, turning with a hand on the front of his hat. "No. You stay here and finish that. I'm going to go get 'er." Without wasting any more time arguing with him, the man moved to a trot to get to where Feng could possibly have gone. He didn't need to think and ponder much as he realized what he _could_ do was follow the heartbeat.

"Let me down! Let me down right now, you stupid electro-magnetic forcefield!"

Well, _that_ was new vocabulary.

Unsurprisingly, as the beast walked by, Bill pinned himself against the wall, hoping to hide just beside a pallet. His knee was already giving him fits, but this wasn't going to stop him from getting close. Feng struggled like a wildcat, digging her nails into the shoulders of the madman and wiggling hard against his shoulder and veiny arm. From here, Bill could make out the different incisions, plugs and IV's that dangled from the doctor's skin like an awful mannequin put to work for an awful Halloween decoration.

What did they do in this hospital?

Rolling his shoulders, he followed right behind the two of them.

Feng was glaring deeply, so much so that she reminded him of Zoey for a minute. She mouthed, "Help me" while showing her gums, indicating she wanted him to know exactly what she wanted. She had no desire to be hooked on the meathook if that was even what it was.

Bill shook his head and crouched down close to the mad doctor's feet, looking at the broken tiles beneath his boots to avoid looking her in the face for a moment. The sound of meat sliding through the hook's tip was awful, even more so as she screamed at the top of her lungs, wasting no air in her diaphragm to show her pain.

A strange, almost electronic laugh slithered out of its lungs before it turned down the nearest hallway. Bill felt the brush of the coat as it spun around, electricity flicking off the fabric like raindrops that bit his skin. The spiked pike was slowly put down as the left hand came up, sparkling like lit fireworks.

Bill waited for a second before standing up, not believing his plan had worked of hiding directly under the killer's nose. Sadly, as she whined in pain and the hook jostled, it turned around. The veteran cursed and pulled her up then off.

"Go, kid, go!" She barely looked like she wanted to even walk as she tried to move forward, clutching her shoulder with an open mouth and a pale face. This was different from a video game.

He looked up then clapped his hands, noticing that the doctor's eyes were on her. He used an entire breath for this.

"Come on, soldier! We have no time for dawdling! Get back to the front lines and make for it like your life depends on it! Which it does! C'mon, don't waste time! Show me that you've been put 'ere in this battlefield because you're strong! _Let's GO, soldier!"_

The spiked weapon came down right across her back and Bill couldn't help but cringe, expecting her to crumble against the tiles.

But she didn't.

Feng Min suddenly tore off at an incredible speed, openly bleeding but holding herself together like a champ. Bill smiled and adjusted the cigarette, hearing the successful pop of another generator that Quentin was finished with.

The doctor turned to him, opened eyes rolling in their sockets to focus on the veteran. His fingers tightened on the weapon, then relaxed, tightened, then relaxed again, seeming to process the sudden loss of a victim. Bill waited for the rage, the satisfying sound of an enemy being beaten just one step ahead of the other.

A giggle resounded from the throat of the madman as he let down the pike and lifted his palm, his entire arm vibrating. It wasn't a charge this time, but unadulterated excitement. The excitement of the chase, of a pleasurable euphoria of working for your meals.

"Aw fuck."

Bill turned on his good leg and began to sprint off in the nearest direction that was away from the doctor, who continued to giggle like an automated toy. Wasting little time, he slammed the nearest pallet down as he turned the corner, limping away as fast as he could, eyeing everything. Tunnel vision was not going to work in this situation. He needed to know every corner, every window, every grass patch and upturned tile. Bill could memorize the entire area if he focused well enough.

Gurney after gurney passed by as he avoided hopping over tumbled trash bins. He could see the numerous clipboards and papers in the see-through mailboxes on the wall. Windows on the wall were slightly opened and surely rusted at the hinges, showing the snow that was trickling down into a possible yard.

Overshadowing him for just a moment was the awful glare of red until the pain of the spiked stick came down hard into the middle of his back. This was the initial attack. It hurt like hell, but he wasn't going down just from that little whack.

Latching his hands onto the chipping, rotting wood of an open vault, he threw his legs forward and landed steadily, avoiding the second attack of the madman. He heard the weapon hit the wood and from the sound of it, he knew there was a large chunk now missing.

Bill took this chance to dart around the corner and hide, waiting for the mechanical breathing to fade with the heartbeat. Did he know where he went?

* * *

Feng pinched her bleeding lips together, having already picked at the dry skin to death. It was a bad habit ever since she started playing games and now it was even worse as she focused on the deadly machine. She could see the belt of the machine beginning to steadily move and she didn't want her fingers to get chipped into the maw of this thing. Not while there was already blood on her back and her freshly helped wounds could be sniffed out.

She looked up temporarily, stopping her fingers so she wouldn't screw up. Quentin was hard at work, sweating everywhere and shaking. However, every now and then, he'd stop and begin to sway. Only before she barked his name did he stutter awake, eyes wide and full of horror. He would look around then return to work, like clockwork.

Honestly, she felt bad for him. What could he have possibly seen to not be able to sleep?

Despite these unfortunate circumstances, the man functioned surprisingly well. He had been able to seal up the bandaging splendidly on her torso and ribcage, wondering aloud as to how she survived the encounter before collapsing seconds ago.

A yell from the old man caused them both to jump, electrifying the generator just seconds away from going into full blast. Feng cursed up a storm.

"Goddamnit, I should have known that old geezer would have gotten caught. Fuck, piss! Of course, I have really unreliable teammates."

She kept her head down after saying that, seeing Quentin cringe away from the generator. It was the worst thing she could have said but she was simply getting peeved! This was why she always solo'ed her games and didn't like her subscribers participating in anything with her sessions. They can't be a proper distraction, they can't run, are too pussy to do anything and she was always the one having to do something and-!

Mid-thought, she watched the boy get up and walk away with sluggish feet, knees looking like they were wet noodles. Another slew of curse words flew from her mouth in panic this time before she called out.

"I-I didn't mean it! I swear! I just get grumpy!"

He didn't listen as he walked away, stumbling into the nearest wall before disappearing into a room. Once more, the gamer chewed on her lower lip then returned back to the generator, grumbling again.

"Okay, fine. Go away then. It's not like you were doing that good anyway."

The silence was almost maddening as she sat on the last piston, trying to get it going. Bill and Quentin were nowhere to be heard, seen, or even remotely sensed. There were no screams, no pallets being slammed and certainly no hum of a new generator being turned on at last. Except hers. It honestly surprised her as she wasn't paying attention to its progress, causing her to leap backward onto her feet.

Great, it was working now!

But what could she do but roam around, searching for machine after machine like some sort of animatronic? Feng rubbed at her upper lip nervously, feeling anxiety creeping up into the pit of her gut.

 _No, no_ , she thought, heaving in a deep sigh that allowed her to catch a whiff of the must and wet static. _I can do this. I've always done it without teammates because it's easier to win like that. I can do it. I can do this._ Giving herself an encouraging nod, she kept her head and back low, peering around corners before creeping through the open hallways, which she deemed not good at all. Sure, there were knooks and crannies to hide in when it came to being seen, but there wasn't anything to hide from when the shock therapy came. It was like an intense wave of dysphoria, jolting every inch of her nerves and causing her eyes to roll back into her head.

A pair of legs were around the corner and she nearly vomited in her mouth out of fright. The Doctor stared at her with bulging eyes and then suddenly vanished. She could still the silhouette of the man as if it was burned into her from how much he made her uncomfortable. In a way, fear drove her, but on the other hand, she really didn't want to lose to this guy for shit. Something compelled her to make him rot in the dust and leave him for good.

Cracking her filthy knuckles and spitting some of the upchuck on the filthy tile floor, Feng stood up from her sprawl on the floor to continue onward, feeling the electricity tugging at the ends of her hair. With her nails, she attempted to finger through it without spreading the old grease.

Proceeding through a pair of archways, she felt every hair on her body stand on end, her fingers quivering in awe and disgust. A meat hook stood proudly in this circle, where images and screaming static produced garbled language and flashed gorey images. She wanted to say they weren't real and compliment the video game artists for their pristine editing skills. She knew better as the electric chairs in the dead center sat next to her, open and the straps dangling to the floor, like a father's belt.

Feng cringed and looked around the room, making a mental note of the open windows, the stairwell, lockers and the pallet's that surrounded the room. It was a strange decor but it was the only one that she could rely on.

Squatting down, she listened to the throat language from the above TV's as she shivered from head to toe, the generator squeaking into motion with her help. At this point, she couldn't tell if it was from the shock or the fear of being next on that screen.

"Just keep going, Feng," she muttered, fingers shaking on the wires. A horror filled her, like a void that thirsted for the innards of her stomach. Her hands shook so terribly that she could do nothing but fumble for the electrical cord, hoping to piece it together before a surge came through. The end of the cord buzzed and swelled, signaling a surge just before it shot off.

Only at the last moment did she manage to fumble. Much to her relief, the explosion was very minor and much quieter than what it previously would have been, causing goosebumps of relief to coat her arms and legs. The gamer breathed a sigh of relief before going back to work, a little more confidence in her thoughts.

An obnoxious giggle breathed from behind the doorframe behind her and she wasted no time in hopping off of the generator and flying across the pathway. The idea of going back on the hook caused her insides to churn and her shoulder to burn. She wanted to have no idea as to what kind of STD's she got from that, or worse. Feng didn't know what was worse than STD's, which shouldn't even be on the meathook anyhow, but she didn't want to find out.

The heartbeat started up as soon as she took off running, thrumming hard into her ears. Sprinting through the overgrown lock of grass, she stopped at a leaning pallet, turning around to glare as viciously as possible. His loopy smile didn't change at all, not even in the slightest in those metals clamps. She also didn't take the time to study him as she put her hands on the wood. He stopped in the knee-high grass, beating the pike against his open palm. Just from standing near him did she feel a wave of unease fall into her stomach.

"What? Not going to do anything, asshole?"

Her blood ran as cold as a slushie as he spoke, his tone high and quivering in excitement. Or euphoria. He spoke like a child who had a mouthful of too much candy.

"Just watching your knees tremble like a weak cancer patient is wonderful." His voice became a wheeze as he watched her, eyes somehow popping out of his sockets more than usual. She cringed, causing him to visibly laugh as his shoulders shook. "I am going to do so much when I catch you," he whispered, gasping at the thought, his hand now wringing against the spiked weapon. It was as if he didn't feel the sharp edges dig into his palm, marring up his dried skin. "Searing your flesh with the electrodes and digging through your ribcage to just hear the bones crack. Lighting up your eyes with my electricity and savoring your screams of agony like a mundane being would to a choir!" He stretched his arms out, his voice rising in volume as he shared his fantasies of torture. Feng watched him become so excited that the ground lit up like millions of tiny snakes that snapped at her skin, searing the soles of her shoes as she stood there.

A cackle, like a clap of thunder, burst from him like the blood from an artery as he lunged. Feng fumbled and brought down the pallet too late, the pike hitting her hard in the side of her ribcage. Blood soaked her shirt quickly and she was cursing her luck in getting wounded. If she lost anymore...!

The Doctor fell hard against the open floor as the pallet landed directly on his head. The gamer didn't stick around to check on him as she sprinted off in another direction, trying to grit her teeth as she took a corner, blood seeping through her dirty fingers.

As she spun around the corner, nearly slipping on the tiles, a hand grabbed her shoulder and dragged her into a room. Her fraying mind caused her to panic as she squealed, flailing her arms against her assailant until they dropped her on the floor. Feng looked up, eyes seeking out the doctor's stretched face. She would have fully panicked if she hadn't seen the tired bags under the eyes that should not have been there.

"Come on, Feng, snap out of it!" Quentin, medkit in hand, was hitting her left then right cheek, trying to get her to wake up from her stupor. As soon as she saw it was him, she curled up her fist and hurled it right for his face. He moved out of the way, taking her by the arm to drag her into a corner of the room, back against the wall.

She didn't need to be told what to do as she listened for the doctor's footsteps amongst the fast-paced heartbeat. With a deep breath in, she let Quentin patch her up once more. He did so with fluid motions as the sound of the breaking pallet echoed down the corridor but Feng barely noticed. All she could do was see things from the corner of her eyes and shadows thriving from her lashes. Every time she shut her eyes, all she could see was the disgusting doctor with his maddening grin and roaming eyes.

She jumped as Quentin suddenly moved, holding onto her and putting her in the corner, his body hiding her almost completely. At first, Feng had no idea what he was doing aside from protecting her but he was going to get caught, too! What was this moron doing!?

The beast poked his head in and she shut her eyes tightly, holding her breath with the man that could probably sleep right onto her now if he chose to, the bastard. She waited with baited breath, trying to focus on something that would take her mind off of the images floating past her eyes such as MMORPG's, FPS and other games. Feng imagined a winning streak across the map in a PvP match, where the other players eventually left in a rage and she received MVP.

Her heart received the benefit of her imagery as it slowed down. The soft pat on her arm made her nearly flail again. The only thing that stopped her was the sudden sharpness in Quentin's eyes.

"H..Hey, what's with that look?" His eyes narrowed at her response and she felt her mouth go dry. He spoke in a low tone, his eyes remaining as sharp as a knife.

"I don't even a get thank you?" The gamer corrected herself, holding her hands up with a wince of pain and spoke quickly.

"I mean, yeah! Thanks... How, uh... How are the generators coming along?" It was the best idea of a conversation starter she had, but he seemed to want none of it. Quentin turned away with a frown tugging at the corner of his lips, medkit tightly held in his right fist.

"Fine."

In the distance, the sound of a generator popping was like a temporary pace of new music. Actually, no- It was like a triple kill in a MOBA. It was satisfying and extremely useful for them.

Quentin left not long after that, barely seconds, really. Feng watched him go, gritting her teeth slowly in distaste. As the heartbeat was no more, she decided it was good time to move along, wondering if Bill was okay.

* * *

Quentin unclenched his teeth before breathing in through his nose and letting out a bitter sigh, feeling the bags under his eyes hang heavy. He really, really wanted to like Feng. She was everything he wasn't. Sporty, competitive, and overall cheerfully into the setting of beating this madman's butt. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that she was anything but her attitude was extremely distasteful. It reminded him of his schoolmates.

Running a hand over his face, he leaned against a wall with a shaky breath, feeling every part of his body quiver. He could tell the difference between fatigue and the shockwaves now. The shockwaves were more violent, accompanied by painful twitching of the muscle while the fatigue was subtle and slowly rose to an extreme degree, to where he could hardly stand. It affected his knees the most.

The illusions of the doctor were driving him to believe he was truly insane. Each time he showed up in front of him, Quentin yelled and was forced to take cover, to hide from the heartbeat. He was certain this gave the other two time to recover in different parts of the facility, but he was so close to getting to a near death state. The boy could basically feel it digging into whatever kind of hope he had left. Or maybe it was courage...

"Quentin!" The hiss of his name caused him to jump, feeling all of his insides churn before he looked up. Swinging on a hook was Bill, who had his arms folded awkwardly and his teeth nearly biting into the entire butt of his cigarette. The male had his brow furrowed in pain, but then again he always seemed to look like that. "Get me down, kid. I already have a bad knee. I don't want this shit affecting my shoulder, too."

He really, really wanted to question how Bill was suddenly on the hook but the old man explained as he walked forward. "I had to finish the generator when he was around the corner. I'm pretty sure you were on it for a while, am I right?" Quentin looked a little awkward in hopes of lifting Bill off the hook that he didn't answer the question. Where was he even supposed to grab? The legs, the shoulders, the hips? Quentin moved to grab him by the shoulders and gingerly remove him from the hook. Bill bit into his cigarette butt so hard that he bit right through it, leaving the smoking thing to hit the floor.

"Quickly, quickly, Quentin, Jesus Christ!" With sweaty palms, he dropped the medkit and swiftly swung Bill's body as best as he could, using every ounce of his body weight to do so. Once Bill was off the hook, Quentin began to quickly apply the wrappings to his shoulder, knowing they had a surprising effect on the body. Feng seemed to do pretty well after her first attack and when he checked on her shoulder from the meathook, it had healed up all the way save for a small scab.

"Want some help with that?" Quentin jumped so hard he accidentally punched Bill's shoulder. Bill winced and used a fist to hit Quentin's hip, telling him to get over himself. Feng came over to help fix Quentin's mistake, improving their teamwork skills faster than beforehand. Judging by the lack of creasing in Bills' brow, he was definitely thankful for their teamwork. Once done, he rolled his new shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"Not bad. I can actually feel like I own a body now. Or at least a shoulder." He ushered them both forward, pointing in silence in a direction. Quentin and Feng followed. The boy actively avoided looking at the gamer as he kept his eyes straight forward, eyeing the ground and anything else. He felt his fingers twitch as they rounded corner after corner, sometimes seeing the distance light of a generator down the hallways. Quentin had no idea where Bill was wanting to go and he assumed Feng was the same way. What was on this old veterans mind?

Bill pointed once again at a silent generator and that was the only cue they needed. Feng spoke. "Oh, there's an exit gate right by here, too! How did you know, Bill?"

The old man snorted as he squatted down. "You didn't think I was running away from the asshole blindly, now did ya?" Quentin felt a little bad considering whenever he ran, he immediately gained tunnel vision. He caught Bill's gaze, who motioned him down with a sort of fatherly comfort in his eyes. Quentin sighed through his nose and took up a part of the generator between the two, beginning to focus on it. If anything was coming, Feng was able to see down the hallway past the cubicles. Hopefully, she wouldn't try to leave them for dead. Surely not, right?

The first piston was soon set in motion, pumping hard to get gas flowing. The second slowly came to life as his palms started to sweat at the thought of someone watching them from a distance. As the third piston rolled into action, Feng crouched low and began to sneak away over to the exit gate.

Quentin didn't understand why the doors to this place were completely solid metal. It was the only exit to this place he felt. Was it even an entryway? He still didn't remember how he got here nor how long he had been here. All he could really remember were the two standing over him, Bill trying to get him to wake up.

He pulled away to rub his eyes with his wrists before looking up over the generator. Stalking suddenly down from around the corner was the doctor, eyes rolling in their sockets to land right on them, just as the fourth one was moving.

"B-Bill!" He ducked back down behind the generator to focus on it, watching the veteran from the corner of his eye get up and run off to one side, limping slightly from his bad knee. The heartbeat suddenly started hard in his ears, beating faster than when the Doctor usually approached. It was as if he had gained the ability to suppress his carnal urges before springing into action. Maybe if Bill held on for long enough, they could get the generator done and the door opened.

Quentin felt a hand on his shoulder and he found himself forcibly being removed from the generator. His heart skipped a beat as he flailed before being thrown to the floor. He yelled as he kicked and threw his arms around, fighting against the hand that was now picking him up by the back of his shirt.

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" He grunted, feeling the shoulder dig into his ribcage. Tunnel vision accompanied him as he struggled, almost falling off of the doctor's shoulder until his arm came up around his waist. It held him fast, no matter how hard he beat his fists into his back. It was like punching steel! There was still the slight feel of flesh beneath the clothing but it was like 100% muscle!

As he struggled, he heard the generator come to life and he felt fear swell up in his gut. They wouldn't leave him for dead, right? Quentin gritted his teeth, feeling the nervous sweat run down behind his neck.

"Hey, asshole!" Quentin looked up just in time to see Feng while the Doctor spun around, nearly making the boy vomit. With an odd noise, the madman suddenly dropped Quentin and the boy almost missed landing on his feet. Feng grabbed his shoulder and began to drag him off with her free hand, a flashlight in the other that barely seemed like it was functioning.

"When did you get a flashlight?" Quentin asked, his voice a little higher pitched than what he liked. She then pushed him through a small space only to follow him and throw down the pallet before continuing to run.

"Bill gave it to me. Threw it at my face and told me to shine it in his eyes. Not like the asshole can blink, anyway. So I thought it was a good idea. It worked." She grabbed his wrist this time and made it for the door with the doctor only seconds behind, the great iron doors opened with the help of Bill, who stayed behind to make sure they made past the doors. The veteran now turned to run for the open land, sweat glistening on his brow.

Quentin felt the blade hit his spine and he screamed, immediately falling to the floor and hitting the hard concrete, blood flowing freely from his back. Feng tripped with him and let go of his wrist, causing her to curse up a storm. Quentin felt all energy leave his body as he simply laid there, long enough to feel two hands on him; Bill and the Doctor.

The veteran loudly cursed before he bent down, holding onto Quentin's wrist for dear life as he picked up the flashlight and threw it as hard as he could at the grinning face.

"Get the fuck outta here!" The hand loosened just enough to where Bill was able to pull Quentin over the concrete. The boy turned his head to see the doctor holding his mouth before he lunged forward.

Quentin felt as if he saw his life flash in front of his eyes in a blur of colors and his chest tightened for the blow he couldn't look away from.

Black spikes sprouted from the ground tinted orange and glowing like a wrathful entity. The Doctor made a noise of distaste that soon became a strangled roar. Feng, who was standing next to the two, stuck her tongue out at him and gave the middle finger as boldly as ever.

"That's what you get, you fucking loser!"

An arm around his waist, much more gentle than the tight vise of the doctor's, helped him up, a hand forcing his arm to go around the sweaty neck of Bill.

"Come on, kid. Quick lolly-gagging around and move."

Feng stuck her second finger up to the doctor before turning, walking into the impressive woods before them. Behind them came the frustrated screeching of the Doctor who had just lost his playthings.

Quentin shuddered at the thought of being put on display.


	15. Campfire Get Together

Meg was fast asleep against the tree log, her face wet from tears of emotional torment. Nea felt awful looking at her. Usually, she didn't care about the athlete but for her to show this much emotion after that? What could have happened? Claudette was next to her, her knees to her chin and her eyes closed behind her glasses, seeming to be at peace in front of the lit fire. Jake was roasting two rabbits and a peasant on the fire, leaving a roasted aroma through the small campsite that they all shared. According to the woodsman, he usually wasn't able to get this lucky.

Ace happily explained that it was all him as he pretended to produce Ace cards from his sleeves. He, of course, had none and Nea punched him in the shoulder for his bullshit.

As of now, she was teething on her worn down nails, eyeing the roasting skin of the rabbit. She was dying for a cigarette and no one had any on her, not even herself. For once, she didn't have a single thing on her when coming into this and it pissed her off. She needed something. A weapon, a cigarette, or even just a map of the places they were at would be so damn helpful!

"Do you want a leg or the breast?" She looked up to see Jake pointing at their dinner, his jacket off and his eyes looking like he was extremely tired. She was fairly sure they all were as she shrugged.

"Whichever you can grab the fastest." Jake nodded and began to pry off a wind from the peasant while Ace raised his hand, murmuring about wanting to eat the leg of a rabbit. The woodsman oblidged and handed it to him as carefully as possible between two fingers. Nea looked at her piece of the peasant, eyeing the crispy skin and the juice seeping from it. She hoped it wasn't blood as she bit into it heartily, not wasting any kind of time trying to figure out if it was diseased or not.

The street artist chewed slowly, tasting the bird for a moment to see if the meat was bearable. "Not bad," she said. "Could use some salt but I guess it's better than nothing."

Ace gave a nod and a hum as he slurped up the leg of the rabbit, which was a little small compared to what he was probably used to eating. Nea guessed he was rich enough to get what he needed. "It's pretty good, Jake," he said, waving the meat around a little before eating the rest of it. "Did your momma teach you to cook?"

He didn't answer for a moment and Nea wondered if the guy had family problems. He spoke eventually, ripping off the leg of the peasant. "I taught myself everything I needed to know. My mother was the one who offered my cookbooks." Jake spoke fairly solemnly as if he was trying to avoid thinking about the little things in life he had been offered. Nea raised an eyebrow but focused back on her meat, knowing she'd have to wait for the others to wake up before checking for leftovers.

Nea cleaned her fingers with her tongue and teeth then tossed the bone before standing, walking towards the woods. Before the two could question, she simply said, "Gotta piss," before taking a quick hike away from the fire, just enough to where she could see it from the trees and still squat without anyone hearing or seeing her.

Halfway through her business, she heard a commotion back at the camp. She sighed and didn't stand up as she strained her hearing, listening for anything that was worthwhile at the camp. Maybe they caught another bird or maybe someone had a nightmare. It could have been anything in this hellhole of a place. The campfire felt safe but she really wondered how safe it really was as they sat and waited for something to pull them from it.

Pulling her pants up, she recalled the time Meg had wandered away from the camp supposedly and was taken. Lucky her, they had found her footprints and went off in one, single direction. It was like playing someones' happy little game and they were chess pieces.

And it really, really pissed her off.

Straightening, the teenager trotted back quickly towards the camp, glaring at the campfire then at the multiple shadows that danced around it. Some of them were trees, others clothing or those who were laying around it. She looked up to see three other people, newcomers who looked like they had seen better days of cities and country alike.

There was a boy with dark bags beneath his eyes, so heavy that she was wondering if he was simply into gothic or emo culture and that was just make-up. What told her otherwise was the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell into the arms of the old man and Jake, who asked what happened. In a hot second, Claudette was awake and fixing her glasses, moving over to check for any wounds.

"He's just tired, don't mind him. Always exhausted since we first met." The old man sighed and sat against one of the logs. Nea watched him fumble for a pocket of his jacket which was decorated with U.S Army badges. She opened her mouth to talk about it until he produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, opening it to show a small array of what was left. Five, large cigarettes sat white and plump in that little box and Nea had almost no control.

"Hey, old man. Can I have a cig?" She crouched down next to him, trying to not step on Meg who slept through the mess. The veteran eyed her up and down with eyes of skeptical blue.

"Aren't you a little young to be smokin', kid?"

Nea frowned and held her hand out. "Aren't you a little old to be smoking, old man?" The man snorted then shook his head, popping a cigarette butt into his mouth then adding one to her open hand. With an old lighter, he flicked it on to light the end before offering it to her. Nea took it quickly and thirstly lit the nicotine, breathing it in like oxygen and feeling her muscles relax and mind slowly go at ease within minutes.

Finally, some peace.

She breathed in every now and then, finishing the cigarette in record time as the others made small talk, sharing food.

Ace spoke first from the mumbles of ache and exhaustion. "So, what kind of crisis do you all go through, huh?" He leaned forward a little with interest that made the other old man give a glare. "What kind of killer was it?"

With a big breath, the veteran inhaled his cigarette while continuing to glare unblinkingly. Once he hit his lungs' maximum air intake, he sighed through his nose, like an angry dragon before he flicked ashes on the gambler, who shrieked and made sure to get the ashes away from his suit, no matter how ratty it looked now. Nea snorted so hard she almost choked on her own cigarette.

"What kind of sicko are you to get interested about that? If you really wanna know, why don't you go off to find out on your own?"

Ace grumbled but then gave a rich smile. "Oh well. Might as well get some information before we all go back out to survive the night, right?"

Jake began flipping audibly through the small book Claudette and Meg had brought back with them, eyeing the ripped paper edges, the water discoloration and then at the fine cursive that trailed its way through the pages. With his tongue roaming his mouth for the last pieces of his peasant wing, he stopped flipping through only to hold up a page of what the few had probably come across.

As Nea leaned in, the small Asian girl crawled forward, completely planting herself on the veteran's lap. Bill blinked twice and then Nea watched him roll his eyes before taking another heavy drag of his cigarette.

"That's him," she said. "That's definitely the guy we went up against. What is that book? A pamphlet?"

Jake shook his head. "It's a journal. Every time we come across anything new, it just generally shows up as an ink blotch on this journal." Though it made no sense to even the street rat, Nea decided she had seen enough crazy shit to no question it as much as she would have in the very beginning. At this point, nothing could be questioned logically. Things just happened, whether you wanted them to or not.

Discussion was quiet. Nea came to find out their names.

Bill was an old veteran, having apparently been alive long enough to see a zombie apocalypse, experience it for several months and then die hoping to save his comrades. He proved it by showing the scratches in his jacket, as well as the blood, vomit, and puss of the Infected. Everyone was skeptical but he didn't seem to give a damn.

The female was named Feng Min. She was relatively short but easily seemed to be as feisty as Meg and Nea combined. The way she held herself was like she was always ready to hold the next, biggest, world champion trophy. She spoke with her hands on her hips at all times or they were folded against her small chest, showing just as much defiance as a kid who just took a piece of candy from a cop. Judging by her non-callused fingers, Nea doubted she did any outside work.

Finally, laying on the ground, out cold, was Quentin Smith. There wasn't much to him aside from his scrawny and exhausted appearance. No one knew what he was afraid of, or why he was even here. Then again, why where any of them here?

Jake sighed. "Well, at any rate, get yourselves some sleep. I'm sure we all deserve it." He glanced towards Meg and all eyes followed his gaze. Claudette, who was still up, had resorted to keeping an eye over her friend with a worried look. Nea wondered if the woman ever relaxed her face muscles into a smile at least once, but there was also a part of her that could blame the poor girl.

Bill spoke her mind as he leaned against a log, pulling his hat over his face. "Stressful and stupid bullshit is all this is. We'll just have to do our best to survive. If I see any one of you kids bail out without good reason through the exit gates, I won't waste time leaving you behind in the dust next time."

Definitely a threat.

Nea rolled her eyes even though she believed him. As she turned, she caught Claudette's eyes, which shone irritably for a moment before turning away.

 _What the hell was that look for?_ Nea frowned but paid it no mind as she sat with Jake, deciding to absentmindedly look through the diary with him. He kept it on him at all times to keep it out of risk from someone deciding to be faulty and rip it. Though it was unlikely, everyone seemed to have a mutual agreement, especially on future visitors. God knows what lack of sanity could do.

The cigarette finally finished as soon as the butt was the only thing left. Disappointment filled her stomach like water in a cup before she tossed the butt on the ground and stomped it out. Naturally, it wasn't eco-friendly, but she wasn't a friend of the forest here. No way in hell she was going to just be oh-so-kind to the forest that was keeping them trapped in an endless void of darkness. The thought made her shudder in disgust before she laid on the ground, keeping close to the burning fire.

Silence and the soft noise of crickets lulled her into a temporary state of sleep. For a moment, the dirt was slightly soft and the fire was warm. The company of other tired and sleeping bodies was a little more at home than she cared to admit.

After what felt like only a few minutes of tender sleep, she awoke immediately to the lack of the crackling fire and the warmth it shared.

She knew where she was as she had been here once before. Nea sighed and moved to finally open her eyes and raise her head, to get a look at her surroundings. Her head came up about two inches and was stopped abruptly by some form of leash that brought her head back down violently hard.

"Ow! Son of a fucking bitch!" Her head began to pound with her heartbeat as the pain spread through her skull. Her arms and legs twisted as she aimed to move, to stand and not feel like the police had finally caught up to her shitty antics of graffiti.

 _Now... Choose._

She cursed, finding no way to actually get up off of the floor with such a weird weight locking her down in place. With a flurry of muttered language, her eyes traced up at the glowing blood web that shimmered like a small spider's cot. The shapes were the same but the color always varied from spot to spot.

Toolboxes, flashlights, medical kits, mysterious boxes... And what were these?

"If I'm going to pick one, you're going to need to let me up."

A strangely gentle fluid suddenly pulled her up into a standing position, quite certainly making her skin pop with goosebumps. The fluid darkness was a spectacle to behold in any kind of form, even if she couldn't see it.

Shaking off the doubt and uncertainty, she thumbed through the strange tabs, flipping them around to read their tiny enscriptions before moving along. Each one was uniquely different but there were replicas that had the same description, making an eyebrow raise up into her hairline in questioning. The Entity's little giggle clued her in that it knew what she was most likely pondering.

"You're going to need more than just one of each item to get through the games."

"Why?" she asked, plucking one after the other and going through the web as greedily as possible. As she went along, the bloodweb remained the same in color and didn't shift at all into a new one as soon as she grabbed what she could.

"My offerings come with quite the price. I don't like it when I make things fair. And now, you pay the price for gathering what your greedy desires called."

Nea frowned, watching the bloodweb as sharply as possible.

Ripping through her skull was a familiar spider leg, tearing through her mouth and suctioning off her nose and her left eye. A blur of what could be described as gore was only registered by her for a moment before her remaining eye rolled back and only faintly, as she woke up screaming, could she recall her eye dislodging from her brain.

Bill woke up first, snapping awake so fast that his hat flew onto Quentin's face, who flailed his arms around like he was having a stroke before he flew to his feet.

The veteran was at Nea's side as she held her face, still feeling the excruciating pain of her bones breaking and dislodging like a knuckle bone. There was only silence, save for Quentin and Nea's panicked breathing, the crackling fire offering only so much of a soothing sound. Even in this situation, Nea could only think of it like a cracking bone as she hid her face in her hands.

A hand came around her shoulder and she peered through her fingers to see Meg. She looked mighty exhausted but she seemed like she knew exactly what was going on. Her face was streaked with the remnants of salty tears but regardless, she smiled against them and gave the street member a hug.

Never had she felt something like this before. It was a human touch that was warm from both the fire and the comfort that was attempted to be shared. It felt like Meg had seen the exact same things as her and for a long moment, all she could do was sit there, accepting the embrace. Never had she felt like she truly mattered up until then. She had skills people could rely on, but once they were gone or not needed, she could be left in the dirt.

Hot tears fell across her own face as she returned the hug, holding the athlete in her arms tightly. For once, for just once, she felt like she could hold onto someone and have it mean something. It wasn't just a hug, where the touch is cold and uncomfortable. This was something she couldn't explain it easily as Meg held onto her, afraid of losing her.

Feng spoke quietly.

"I guess...it's been rough."

Jake answered as quietly as she did but his tone was much more depressing than usual.

"We have all seen things we don't want to express anymore. But again and again, we have to go through with a fight and a long time of running." She heard him tap his fingers on the leather cover of the journal. "This is all we have to go by, save for our experiences. Almost day by day," the pages were thumbed through, "we have something new popping up. It's almost constant and we're all fighting."

Finally, Meg pulled away, chuckling and wiping at Nea's face with her sleeves. The female sniffed and then wiped at her face herself.

"I got it, I got it," she mumbled, causing Meg to snort before she laid back down. "Do you want to talk to everyone about the bullshit now? From the swamp?"

Her face fell but after a temporary and short moment of silence, Meg straightened with a soft sigh. Jake scooted closer, offering a piece of food before wiping his hands on a thick leaf.

"Oh, thanks, Jake." They shared a mutual nod before she bit into it, thinking.

"At the swamp," she muttered, "there was...some sort of cannibal. A woman. Her fingers were like claws and they scraped the ground everytime she moved." She shuddered for a moment. "You could see her bones. Her cheekbones, her hips and her entire ribcage. She was so thin that I'm pretty sure she's not really living anymore." She paused to take another bite, chewing well before swallowing.

"When I was inches from death, I know it was death, I saw my life flash before my eyes. But when I was on the ground and bleeding, the Nurse protected me." Claudette visibly straightened. "She suddenly appeared and... I don't know. I thought she was going to kill me but she didn't. And it was like an invisible hand picked the girl up and tossed her like she was nothing. Or woman, I don't know." She sighed, taking another bite to try and pause to collect her thoughts.

Ace spoke with a tender tone, luring attention over to him so Meg could eat. "So I wonder if that means they're fighting us-"

"No." Meg swallowed her piece so fast she almost choked but the sensation disappeared after she gave a single cough. "That's the thing. They weren't fighting over me. That nurse was deliberately- I think, helping me. That thing started to cuss her out from making me a meal. All I remember is hearing a voice in my head telling me to run but..." She shuddered. "I watched them fight. It was absolutely awful and I have never felt so-" Another pause as she tried to find the right word. "So empty and ice-cold in my life."

There was a brief exchange of glances before anyone spoke. The botanist adjusted her glasses before opening her mouth.

"They're really unpredictable."

Bill snorted. "Yeah, right. They all want the same thing. The last sucker wanted nothing more than to bend us around until our back wasn't in our body anymore." He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled. The wave of smoke bypassed Quentin's face, who was now asleep upright.

Nea watched him before looking towards Jake. "We have a lot of details in that book. We just need to figure out why, how and what. Otherwise we're sitting ducks and I fucking hate that."

"I noticed," Feng said, "that after we bandaged each other up, the wounds disappear really fast!" She moved to show off the slightly reddened mark as to where she was hooked on her left shoulder. Nea felt a shudder beside her and she realized it was Meg. She turned a little and rested her arm casually on the athlete's shoulder, hoping to cheer her up.

Claudette scooted a little closer to Feng, showing off her own hanging scar, or at least, where it was. "I used to have one, too. It just eventually...disappears. Even when we go to a new location, it's gone."

"Sounds like a game," Jake whispered. "Where we can't be too powerful but always living for amusement."

"I wouldn't be too surprised." Bill leaned back in his spot again. "It might also mean that if there's more of us, then there's something to them. A balancing system."

Meg shook her head, tossing the bone of her food over her shoulder. "No, I don't think so. It's...something else, I think. Maybe it can be a game to some of them but I think there's a bigger picture that we can't get yet."

Silence fell as they pondered, thinking over the endless amounts of details. The generators, how they were dragged to this camp, the killers' motives, the way they hunted- Not to mention even the infamous Michael Myers was a part of this. Nea remembered those hollowed eyes and she shuddered immediately, violently so to where her arm slipped off of Meg's shoulder and she fell to the ground.

Instantly, they shared a glance and Nea waved her off. "Sorry, thinking back to Michael."

Feng raised an eyebrow first. "Who?" Bill mirrored her movements until he spoke around his cigarette. "A killer?"

Jake flipped through the pages of the biography, trying to find the possible pages that could be designated for the murderers. After a solid minute of flipping, Bill spoke.

"I'm guessing I'm right since you've been flipping through for a while."

Nea watched the woodsman's brow furrow. "He isn't in here. The pages are gone." He held up the book, showing it to everyone that was awake and listening. Straightening her beanie, Nea leaned forward and could vividly see the torn edges that laid near the spine of the book, where slight ink blotches could be seen from what might have been an ink pen. All at once, everyone leaned in to check the book and Nea awkwardly felt the heat of every body that moved in.

Claudette moved to gingerly take the book and look at it, being as gentle as she could be. It was like she was holding a plant.

"That's bizarre. I'm fairly certain that when Meg and I flipped through this, there was at least something here. No torn pages or anything."

Nea watched her face pale before she handed it back, nearly knocking it into the fire as Quentin suddenly screamed. Jake, with nimble fingers, caught the book and brought it back smoothly before all eyes were on Quentin. His face was in his hands and a long sob left him before followed by soft wails. Feng touched his shoulder and he jerked away.

"Get away from me!"

"Easy, Quentin, easy!" Bill held out a hand. "It's just us. Yer safe now, aight?" Claudette reached forward with a small handkerchief to dab at the boy's eyes with as much tender care as a mother would.

"Go back to sleep, okay?" He shook his head, tears rolling down his face as easily as it would a child's. Nea had never seen someone, especially a guy, cry as much as he was right now. Regardless, Claudette kept running her cloth over his face, holding his cheek as gently as possible to keep him still. It seemed she didn't mind and it slowly soothed him back into a simple, sniffling mess.

Nea snorted. "Well, we know who the mom of the group is," she said. Claudette turned with a questioning look. "You take care of everyone here. You always care with our stuff, with us and all that. You're like a mom."

A soft and sheepish smile glowed on her face as she stuttered, "R-Really? Oh come on now, I'm no mom."

Beside Nea, Meg gave a light laugh. "Yeah, you are. Your always one for healing, right? You keep finding all of these plants and you have the properties about them memorized. You even said you wanted to make tea for us, right?"

The more they spoke, Nea watched the blogger's face turn redder and redder by the second. Eventually, she simply turned to scrub at Quentin's face, who audibly mumbled "ow"'s as she became too focused.

Feng yawned and stretched, moving to lay down against the log. "Alright, well, I guess we should all get to bed. No point in doing much else. Catch a break, you know?"

Quentin visibly shuddered but Claudette immediately put an arm around his shoulders. Bill also reached over and patted his back roughly, giving a hardened smile.

"You'll do fine, kid. If you need us, you let us know. Nothing can get ya here with all of us." He looked around for affirmation and Meg stuck up her thumb. Jake looked up from his book and gave a slight smile, as well as a nod. Once Bill looked to the street forager, she snorted and gave a nod before turning to lay down, pulling the beanie over her face.

One by one, they laid down, trying to fall into a slumber with the whisper of the crackling campfire just a few feet away.

But it was not the only lullaby that helped them drift that night.


	16. Rainy Mood

Dwight woke up with a snore, his eyes opening slowly to still see the crackle of the fire. There was a sharp, indescribable pain in his right arm and he quickly cringed, looking at it. He expected a large gash to be seeping, full of blood and the grime of an old weapon. There was nothing but clean skin, save for the dirt of his recent nap on the ground. He could feel the sweat in his shirt as he was laying, evidently, too close to the fire that had promised to keep him safe from the monsters.

He blinked twice, finally becoming aware of the lack of glasses on his face. Feeling along the ground with tired and weak fingers, he yawned and moved to put them onto his face once he foudn out they were surprisingly close to the campfire. More so than what he would like. With a sniff, he brought them back up to his face, slipping them over the bridge of his bare nose.

Rubbing his eyes with his wrists, he finally observed the sleeping faces of Jake, Ace, Bill, and Quentin. They were out like a group of lights and, honestly, it was funny hearing four different types of snoring between the others. But this also made him wonder if the girls snored? Dwight looked around slowly, feeling the sleep in his eyes as he rubbed them once more.

"Eh? Where are the girls?"

His sentence ended with a groggy yawn as he looked around again, trying to rub the sleep away. Did he truly sleep so heavily after such a long time?

He turned to the closest body to him and gently shook Ace's shoulder, hoping to wake him up first. Then again, maybe Bill would be better since he was a veteran and probably woke up if a dime dropped.  
A rag wrapped around his mouth, dragging him away from the unconscious gentlemen with a snap. It smelled awful, with a tint of sweetness and then the rest like a bad cigarette in the car. Any noise he made was muffled.

He moved to claw it off and it tightened hard over his mouth and nose, to where he could feel the blood circulation in his mouth slowly come to a halt, lips numbing quickly. Fingers crawled into his hair and tugged his head back further, to where he started choking on the lack of air that could enter his windpipe.

Staring down at him were hollowed eyes behind a white mask, clearly made from hand-crafted ceramic and folding gently to fit the face of the creature before him. Lips as red as blood didn't curl into a grin nor did it pull downwards. Instead, the lips were partly open, showing the slightest glimpse of white teeth as a hum escaped their throat.

The panic that fluttered in Dwight's chest slowly ebbed away as the chloroform kicked in and the lullaby slowly lulled him into a deeper slumber than before. He felt himself fall into their hands like nothing else mattered but eternal slumber.

* * *

Claudette felt nothing but sweet bliss as she woke up. She didn't open her eyes at first as she basked in the sound of rain hitting the window pane and the warm glow of light that could be seen just behind her eyelids. There was a slight creaking of old wood and for a moment, she simply reveled in the beauty of peacefulness. It felt like home, where she could lay forever on the floor and listen to a rainy Tuesday morning around 3 am. All she needed now was a chemistry book and the whirring sound of her laptop.

Wait, why wasn't she on her laptop now?

Very slowly, she moved her fingers, feeling them touching the front of her lips. The old smell of antiques filled her nose as she inhaled, coupled with the warm and fresh scent of the rain. Stretching her fingers further, she could feel the dampened wood.

Finally, she opened her eyes. There was a slight blur to the world but she could make out where she was as a hand came up to her breast pocket, attempting to find her glasses. Once she pulled them into her hand, she sat upright slowly, feeling her beret fall off and hit the floorboards to her right side. Without thinking twice, she unfolded the spectacles and put them delicately on the bridge of her nose and along the cuff of her ear, as always.

Immediately she could see Nea, laying in at the foot of a set of stairs and curled up like she was seeking safety. Next to the cobblestone fireplace was Meg, who was curled up on a beautifully decorated rug and Feng was only a few inches away from her, sleeping soundly so much she was snoring. Her legs were tucked under the cloth fabric of a table that was currently eye-level with the botanist.

Where _were_ they?

A question for the ages, really. The idea of them being in a new place was never strange anymore, but it still was a dizzying concept of how none of them woke up. Then again, they were all so tired as of late with constant nightmares, the Entity and then the killers coming around.

Standing and feeling well-rested for once, Claudette decided to take the time to stretch her arms over her head, feeling every aching muscle as she usually never stretched enough for a running marathon. There also felt like there was time to get a good look about the cabin, despite the fact that it was completely new territory and obviously someone else's home.

A lumberjack, maybe? She put her hands on her hips before she decided to walk around in this new area, taking her sweet time. There was no heartbeat to greet her. Only the sound of the rain and the groan of the home.

There was no door attached the home as far as she could see. She turned away from the candlelit fireplace to look at a wardrobe just against the opposite wall, painted in a surprisingly decorative pattern. Then again, it appeared like anything had a surprisingly color and eccentric color scheme. Claudette turned to look at the fabric of the tablecloth, wanting to also prove a point at how gaudy the decor was.  
A bone sat on the table, having no problem balancing on a thin, porcelain plate. She decided to not question the idea as to where it could've come from as she turned away, chewing on her lower lip. The pot beside it was empty, perhaps filled with a little bit of water from any previous leakage through the rooftop. Above the head was a chandelier, though any glass or metal was replaced entirely by the antlers of many bucks. Candles were rooted on the points, somehow staying lit and proving that whoever lived here was very tall or had a good ladder.

Claudette turned around further. A painting of a three-person family sat on the cobblestone of the chimney. A rugged family sat there, with a young girl in the middle holding a wooden, thin horse. Despite the black and white color scheme of the old portrait, the toy held the same, surprising patterns on it as the rest of the cottage decor did. It reminded her of something she had seen before but she couldn't place her finger on it.

Shaking her head, she continued her adventure. After looking past the impressive wall of chopped wood, she escorted herself through the doorframe on the other side, admiring the handiwork. It was clearly built by two hands and not a group of carpenters and homeworkers. A lot of work went into this little place, so much so that she was sure Instagram would throw lots of money to at least have a grand tour of this place.

Before she even entered the other room, she was already recoiling. The smell of old meat and a tint of raw blood hit her nose. Her hands came up with a jolt to cover her mouth and nose, the sweat on her palms rubbing against her lips. She wrinkled her nose and pulled her hands away to wipe her mouth with a sleeve and her wet palms on her pants before she crept back inside.

It wasn't as bad as what she had figured as she slightly recoiled once again, eyeing the remains of whatever was here. A pig, possibly? No, maybe a squirrel? Then again, she wasn't going to try and figure out what it was with all of this fat flies hovering around.

Shudders licked down her spine before she turned away, taking a glimpse around the room before leaving the way she came in.

The wind picked up with a slightly harder downpour of the rain, causing the lacy curtains to lift and flutter like the wings of a lunar moth. Though pretty and elegant, there were several stains from god-knows-what. Maybe the coloring of wood? Blood? Grease? Regardless, they weren't that pretty now, though she still admired them by letting her fingers graze the edges.

To her left now was an open frame, where she could see a wide, open forest. However, she also saw a generator, causing her heart to sink in dismay. Once again, they were back in square one to try and fight for their lives.

 _Wait_. She put a finger up to her lips and narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. If we're in a home, and there are generators, where is the killer? Of course, not everyone was here but she worried if the killer had no heartbeat, no radius to let them know where they were going to come from. They all weren't here either. As far as Claudette could remember, and she was fairly sure to begin with, only the women were here.

Breathing in deeply, she sighed through her nose, catching the wonderful scent of fresh rain before she looked to the right. Another way out again, but there was also a tiny little knook. Perhaps the remnants of a closet? Even from here, she could see distant mud and blood splatters, causing her to completely steer clear of the little spot. Instead, she directed herself to follow the melted candles and walk up the wooden stairs.

Reaching the top, she could feel the wind and slight rain droplets. It was almost completely open in three, no-four different directions.

Claudette instinctively crouched down low, deciding to check out the entire place.

From here, she could see a large amount of the forest. She could see the familiar spots where they could hide, the damp and red closets, the generators and lots and lots of grass. Truthfully, it reminded her of the swamp with how tall the shrubs were but what was even taller here were the uprooted mounds of dirt, clearly having been made through excavation. She could see another building in the distance, fogged by rain- wait, no, it was just her glasses and humidity hating one another.

Claudette took her glasses from her nose, wiping them free of any residue before sliding them back where they were supposed to be. However, despite her attempt to see better, there truly was an impressive thickness to the fog that swept its way through the forest. Even from here, she could see some of it climbing over the brick wall.

She put her thumb up to her mouth, chewing on it slightly before immediately regreting it. Spitting over the edge of the makeshift balcony, she wiped the dirt from her teeth onto her sleeve.

"Ugh, that was dumb of me. I guess that's one way to break a bad habit." Wiping her slightly wet thumb on her pantleg, she moved to crouch awkwardly, trying to keep herself low in case anything popped up. Anything being the killer or something akin to it. She was never comfortable anymore when it came to walking unless the grass was up to her knees, even before she crouched.

The botanist glanced around more and then looked up, only to run her nose into the metal bar of the generator.

She squealed and clutched her nose, feeling the pain rake its way all the way up to the front of her forehead. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, being summoned from the pain and her low pain tolerance. In silence, she held onto her nose, not moving in fear of feeling the wind finding any blood on her face. She didn't want to be the clutz that just so happened to crouch-walk into a generator but here she was, recovering from a blow to the nose that wasn't from anything remotely dangerous.

"Claudette?" A voice called from down below, clearly tired and full of drowsiness. Cursing her luck, she stood up and walked back inside to peer over the railing of the upper floor, staring down soon at a sleepy Feng Min. She was rubbing her eyes and didn't even bother to look up.

Wiping twice at her nose, she checked for blood. Once she saw there was none, just pain, she spoke. "Up here."

Feng jumped nearly straight out of her shoes and managed to bang her hip into the table. She cursed loudly, therefore waking the rest of the females in this cabin up without a problem. Claudette put her hands up to her face, watching the gamer clutch her hip and waddle around. She did her best to not let out a series of giggles but it slipped out anyway as Nea and Meg sat upright.

"Where the hell are we? And what the hell did you do?" Nea looked at the crippled Feng, who was now clinging to the nearest locker.

"I hit my hip on the stupid, shitty table," she hissed.

Meg was the first to laugh, though it didn't last long as she stood up, speaking and clearly taking in her surroundings. "Luckily, I think that might be the least awful thing we'll get. Looks like we're in another match." She crouched down by the fireplace. Claudette glanced over the other's shoulder and shuddered, seeing multiple skulls amongst the candlelight. "I mean, come on, look at this place. It looks like some sort of bear ripped the doors off or something."

Claudette gave a nod. "There's a generator up here. It's one big forest so we'll have to stick together."

"But where are the others?" she asked, turning around with her hands on her hips.

"Maybe they got away," Nea hummed, now moving to look around the cabin without the single inkling of feeling danger.

Claudette tapped her fingers together nervously. "I... For some reason, I don't feel threatened by the place, though. Do any of you?"

Feng rubbed her hip one more time before her arms folded defensively, her eyes narrowing. "It's probably just the rain. It's really thick too, isn't it?" She looked up, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain on the tops of the wooden home. "We're still in danger, so that doesn't mean we can just slack off."

Meg snorted. "We get it, you're a hardcore gamer. If you're so eager, then find a generator and get it going."

The two shared a look and Claudette quickly cleared her throat. "There's...one up here we can all work on. Although, it's hard to get on all four sides."

Feng threw her hands up in the air and turned away, marching strongly out of the house. "Fine! I get it, you just want me gone. Okay, fine!"

From the top, Claudette could distinctly see Nea's left eye twitching considerably. She was also gritting her teeth, showing that she had some very figurative choice words for the girl. Something told her to swallow them this time.

Meg turned, patting Nea on the shoulder before pointing upwards to where Claudette was.

In quiet unison, they moved to work on the generator, joining one another despite the rain. The generator also didn't seem bothered at all by the water. In less than a full minute, it was done, shining brightly. With quick and light footsteps, the group of ladies moved to the next one as a collective group. Or at least, Claudette wanted to but decided it would be quicker if they managed to split up. Not to mention that these two were much quicker on their feet than what she was and seeing them hop off the building balcony so easily caused her to get a chill up her spine.

She was never one for heights.

 _Ba-thump, Ba-thump._

Needless to say, they split without much warning, hiding behind rocks, in the grass and ultimately keeping themselves crouched. Claudette, having still not gotten down from the cabin balcony, ducked near the generator, hiding behind the rumbling side of the machine.

From where she was, despite the drizzle and the blinding light of the generator that beamed down, she could see a figure moving. The shoulders slightly hunched and the height still surprisingly surpassing those who were deemed as survivors. These killers always seemed to be tall, with great weights and muscles that kept them off the charts of being anything "normal." It was a study she wouldn't touch despite her curiosity as she focused on the trailing piece of the body the form had.

Unable to catch a full glimpse as the creature wandered over to the shack that was several yards away, Claudette quickly descended using the stairs, wringing out her hair and beret of the water that was trying to slowly drench them all.

Her feet barely hit the wooden floor before she was grabbed by a pair of cold fingers around her hands. Had she not seen Nea's face, she was certain she would have immediately tried to dive for the window to escape, screaming all the while. She breathed in to sigh with relief but Nea's worried expression stopped her short.

"You have to follow us," she hissed, her grip stronger than ever. "It has Dwight! We need to save him."

"W-What?" She could barely get the words out before she was being dragged swiftly towards the door that wasn't facing the other building. From the corner of her eye, she could see Meg quickly sprinting to the next glowing pair of lights that signified a generator was there. Claudette, for a moment, felt blessed by the teamwork that was getting done. Had they never decided to cooperate as a team, she figured they would rarely ever get out alive.

"I mean exactly what I said," she murmured, dropping low and moving quite steadily. Claudette could barely keep up with her knees bent, so she didn't crouch at all. "It was dragging Dwight by his ankle and heading to that shack." Nea pointed as they ducked behind numerous oak trees and knee-high grass.

Once they neared the decrepit shack, it was easy to hear the drop of a body. Claudette couldn't help but cringe as she clung close to Nea, who stayed as quiet as a mouse.

The heartbeat quickened and the botanist shamelessly clung to the arm of the female beside her, already trembling from the chill settling in her bones and all along her wet skin. Grass crunched and whispered as it moved, making way for the towering killer. With the heartbeat mingled a woman's hum; a lullaby that brought warmth to her gut and a cold breath down her back. The horror of a humming murderer brought tears to her eyes as she could only ponder the sadistic tendencies that the woman must have had.

A blue skirt brushed past them both as the killer trudged away, humming sweetly with a large axe in her roughened hands. The pattern on the skirt was only visible for a slight amount of time but she wasn't able to catch it. For a solid moment, Claudette could see a rough outline of the woman as she walked away, shoulders hunched and eyes shadowed by the scuffed bunny mask she wore on the upper part of her face. Over her shoulders and connected seamlessly to the mask was a veil of black lace that obscured any visualization of where hair could have been. Whenever she turned her head, the veil would shift, and the student could see the bloodied handprint on her left shoulder.

Numbly, Claudette followed Nea, feeling the pull of her wrist.

Inevitably, the warmth of the shack only came from the lack of wet rain pouring over them. It didn't last long as the wind slipped through every available nook and cranny, sweeping over the wet skin of the survivors without any acknowledgment of their shivering. How cruel the world could be, even now.

Instead of seeing just Dwight on the freezing wood, Claudette recognized Jake, Ace and Bill's faces through the mud and blood that sprinkled over their faces. Bill was missing his cigarette and Ace was missing his shades. Dwight's glasses were broken, lop-sided and halfway off of his face, rainwater collecting itself on the cracked lens.

Nea whispered audibly to Ace first, shaking his shoulder. "Hey, come on, wake up! You stupid old fart, come on!"

Claudette's lips pinched as she leaned down, fingers skimming along the semi-wet blood smears on the face of Jake. He was warm, signifying he wasn't left out in the rain for too long here. His lips were colored like a ripe peach to prove his body warmth. He didn't look like he would wake up very soon, however.

After searching through his hair, she found what she was looking for. A thick, at least half inch mark on his scalp was embedded deeply into his skin. Though it didn't appear to cause a massive concussion, it was still a wound to the head that could have been traumatic.

"They were struck in the head, I think," she whispered, barely above the hush of the rain on the rooftop. "Check Ace and Dwight, please."

She didn't pause to see if Nea would assist as her hands threaded themselves through Bill's greyed locks, eyeing the sharply contrasting blood line that melted into his part. For a brief moment, she found herself surprised by how thick the old man's hair was. Perhaps the grey tint was simply from the amount of stress he carried as a soldier.

"They've got it, too," Nea responded, trying to be gentle with turning Dwight's head. It looked like she was struggling to make sure she didn't do anything, like an inexperienced mother with a tiny infant's limp body.

A gruff voice suddenly dipped in front around the corner of the hut, reaching the window.

"They all got dragged 'ere, one way or 'nother." Claudette felt goosebumps lick all the way up her arms as she looked up, already prepared to see the face of a man that would be, perhaps, remotely human.  
Claudette found herself correct. They were definitely a male, with a soft smirk on his split lips. He looked as if he had been outside for quite some time as his hands were dirtied and his jacket was soaked like the knees of his jeans. His muscles could be seen as his jacket was rolled up against his biceps and she could see the scarring on his knuckles. Even from here, she could tell that he leaked with the scent of testosterone. Perhaps it was that crawling smirk of his, as if he had just won the lottery compared to the bet of his rival.

"And you are?" Nea's growl was territorial as she stood to her feet, clearly ready to pick a fight. His hands went up.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, tiger." He chuckled, letting his England accent float. "I ain't here to pick any fights. I'm 'ere to be a lil' bit o' help, you see."

The botanist spoke with a quiver in her throat. "Help us survive and get them out of here." He looked at her and she stole the chance to keep his attention. "If you can at least make sure they're not harmed anymore, and get out beyond the exit gates, then-"

He snorted but the twinkle in his eye told a story of his iron will. "Sure, I'll help ya. But I won't be gettin' them gennies, though. And before ya retort at me," he suddenly bit, pointing a finger at Nea, "I'm a team player. I know 'ow it is havin' someone suddenly ditch ya like afternoon dinner. Ya see, you all will be gettin' yer hands dirty. Me?" He gestured towards where the strange woman had ran off to. "I'll be distractin' the ripe beauty that ya saw."

"What do you know about the killer?"

She watched his eyebrow raise into his hairline at Nea, his smirk dropping off temporarily. "Well, she doesn't like me, for one thing." He gave a quick chuckle. "However, I know she was _real_ gentle with you ladies. Carried you in like you were a bunch'a newborn babes. These guys?" He pointed at the unconscious bodies and shook his head. "Carried them by the ankle. Like _luggage_."

"Doesn't like men, then," Nea retorted, arms folding. Claudette turned away to gently try to patch up the wounds on their heads, listening to the man with one ear.

"Naw, what gave you that idea?"

"Let's do our best," Claudette inerjected, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "What's your name?"

His smirk spread his lips again as he nodded in greeting. "David."

She nodded. "I'm Claudette. And this is-" She was cut off.

"Nea. I'm Nea Karlsson."

 _Ba-thump._

"Ah, love introductions, but uh-" He gave a quick salute with his fingers to his forehead. "Gotta see how many hatchets this lady's got for me t'day. G'day to ya."

Like a sports player, he darted where she supposed was in the direction of the masked woman, as eager as a child with a new toy.

As the generator in the distance popped on, glowing brightly, the botanist looked to Nea. They shared a nod and darted towards the nearby machine. If they could work on this while David distracted the woman, maybe they would survive and get everyone out.

Claudette, despite this, still had some questions about the portrait hanging above the unlit fireplace in the cottage. What details were they missing from this big picture?


	17. Russian Lament

She was such a pretty sacrifice. Her hair was gently feathered and curled right at the ends, faintly tinted red from the blood of her brother's viciousness with the knife. The way her eyes were closed after the torment of being removed from the game by her brother gave the nurse a shiver down her spine. Sadly, however, she never got these tingles anymore from fright.

In solemn silence, she stripped the Strode girl of her button up and gently folded it to the side of the old bed. There was no need for the removal of her bra as the wounds made were on her right shoulder blade and deep within her chest. From here, Sally could see that Michael hadn't even hit her heart. Instead, he had simply dug so deeply into her chest cavity that he managed to split the spinal nerves and remove all feeling or functioning.

"Gruesome asshole, ain't he?"

Creeping up with a slight limp and in her usual crouch, the Hag gnawed away on a spare leg of an innocent that was found deep within the bogs. Her sunken eyes, Sally knew, were flicking over the body of the woman that laid still. Even her breath was gone from her cold lips.

"Can't even give his sister a break," she continued, smacking her dry, thin lips. The widow said nothing as she gently stitched up the female, already watching the skin smooth out unnaturally on its own. From beside her, she could feel the Hag scooting closer to watch, a single claw stretching a little to latch onto the metal bars. "Don't know how you do that."

In response, the nurse simply sighed, pulling her hands away to look at the ceiling. If only she could have used these kinds of paranormal techniques to rescue her husband. If only she could have died and not he. But even so...

"Hey, girly, come back to me." Sally looked down. "Can't go off to lalaland yet. Ya got work to do. We gotta send 'er back shortly, ya know?"

Shoving the arm by the bicep into her maw, Lisa turned and hobbled away, drooling like a pitbull over the flesh in her mouth. Sally watched her and slowly sighed through her nose, taking care to not disturb her painful throat.

Minutes upon minutes passed by and the Nurse functioned like usual. Her fingers pressed against the tender skin, driving the needle through the cooling flesh and avoiding the bone. No need to make the damage worse, otherwise it would take even longer for the Entity's power to heal them for the next match.

A whimper echoed by the doorway as she washed away the remaining blood splatter on the female's chest. She turned and eyed the Hillbilly, who looked as though he wanted to move a little closer. A soft nod was her response, feeling her windpipe tremble in threat of collapsing on itself.

Max always did this. He always liked looking at the bodies of the ones who had been sacrificed to the Entity. There was always something different that he would note, pointing it out to the nurse to show that some things were disheveled, the lips were blue or there were tears staining the cheekbones he always loved to touch. Compared to him, the survivors were extremely soft.

He moved closer, indeed, stretching his dirtied fingers over Laurie's face and gently passing his fingertips over her coral lips. His hands traveled down towards her neck, his nearly-blind eyes searching for the rise and fall of her chest.

Max growled before he viciously snapped her neck to one side. The sound reverberated off the peeling walls and hardwood flooring. Sally could feel her own fingers twitch as she relished in the disgusting crack Max had created, uncaring if she had to patch up the girl again.

 _Don't let it get to you,_ she thought. _Not yet. Not until we're free. And maybe by then...it will go away, like a bad memory._

* * *

Quentin clenched his hands together, rubbing them viciously to try and obtain blood flow through his fingertips. It was cold out in this foggy night, where the rain left a layer of moisture on everything. It was slowly soaking into his jacket and he couldn't help but shudder, wondering if he should wring out his beanie, even though it would mean that the heat would disappear from his scalp. Maybe there was something in the medpack that he bought from the Entity?

The boy glanced down at it, wistfully thinking if the other men were okay. He was lucky, having gotten away by just feeling his gut, even in his sleep.

He had always been a light sleeper and he was beyond thankful for the fact the nightmares had antagonized his life so deeply. Then again, he always had a constant fear of even sleeping, so much so that closing his eyes had become so painful and the weight was like a ball and chain.

He would know.

Quentin used the cold on his shivering fingers to press them against his aching eyes, which felt hotter than normal. Whether it was stress or illness, he knew not. What he knew, however, was that whoever they were dealing with had some form of hatred for men and he didn't want to know how deeply it stretched within that woman's soul.

He eyed the grey sky, recalling how she had woken them up one by one and then silenced them with a thick rock from the hot side of the campfire, engraving their skulls like a bull's backside. Bill went first, then Ace. Dwight was last but Jake had given up most of the fight, cutting his hands on the hot stone of the fire and pressing hard against her awful axe. Even from the bushes, he knew it was gleaming from the blood of any past victims.

How could she make it to the camp? Was that not our safe haven?

The highschooler glared upwards, a frown pulling at his lips. There was something wrong with the descriptions of that book, and even if they were correct, it seemed that the rules could get twisted. Like how a child that doesn't win lays down different rules that will let them win always.

A body hit his own, hard and much more muscled than him. Quentin watched his breath leave his body before it faded and left him like a soundless fog, all other weight bearing down on him like an iron fist from the heavens. His yell was only partial. Had he not heard his right hip crack like a twig being snapped in half, he would not have discovered his hip was broken until the adrenaline had worn off.

In a blur, his hands reached back, grabbing at the closest limb he could feel from his angle. Quentin gritted his teeth and dragged this limb off as he rolled hard to one side, slamming the new body until the rocky side of a small hill. His hip flared up in pain, but it was not enough agony that he couldn't get up.

A hand grabbed at his hair and slammed his head into the ground so hard he saw stars, rainwater kissing his lashes.

"Would ya fuckin' stop, ya bastard?"

The new voice made him stop and all adrenaline stopped. Every new ache he received was coming into play but he forced himself to look up, feeling the blood rushing from the inside of his bitten cheek.

"How about you look where you're going?" he retorted, spitting blood to the side before he swallowed it accidentally.

"Then how about ya get chased by a murderer. Ya look right an' fit for it now."

Quentin glanced up at the sneering face and glared. As he finally eyed the brute of a man, he could see the enormous gash in his side, a dislocated shoulder and two open kneecaps from constant skidding.  
It was like looking at a football player who ran on only expired Gatorade and slutty cheerleaders. But there was at least a welcoming sense that whoever this guy was, he wasn't relying on the protection of football padding and whining about a knee scratch. He was letting his own body get beat.

Quentin softly bit his lower lip, tasting lingering blood. "It's nearby, isn't it?"

"Who? The killer? Damn right, she is." A grin spread over the split and bruised lips, a thumb coming up to brush away any rain or blood.

Oh, great. Quentin huffed in irritation.

Deciding it was time to stop wasting time, the boy moved to his feet. His dislocated hip clicked and pushed uncomfortably against his wet skin, but he was determined to hide all pain from his face. He really hated looking at the face in front of him, with how those fiery eyes burned with nothing but hotty testosterone.

Not a team player.

He bent down as carefully as he could, clutching his hip that was gradually becoming hotter to the touch. Once the medical pack was between his fingers, he stood up, knowing he would have to bind himself up soon. And if that bastard behind him wanted help, he'd have to ask before Quentin did anything. If he was running away from the killer with such glee, then he surely must've known what to do.

"How many of ya are there? So far you've got maybe four gals and men. And then there's you."

Quentin, already tired of this fuckboy, turned around and looked him dead in the eye, battling him in silence for dominance over the situation. "There are never enough of us."

With little room for reply being left, Quentin shifted his weight and limped away with his jaw clenched harshly.

Heaving in a quick breath, he moved to a jog, doing his damned best to not crumble in pain. Only when he found himself rounding around the bend of one of the small hills, he kneeled down.

Quentin rolled up his jacket and shirt together, clutching onto it with both teeth. It would help mask any sounds of pain he might give out, at least until he bandaged himself up. The only negative side was that it was chilly from the temperature of the air and the rain both, causing him to shudder and curse his luck of fighting with a sports player.

The medpack was full of supplies, such as needles, bandages and bandage clips. There were even some ointments, most likely for burns from the fire barrels and even the awful spazzes of the generators. He focused on the bandages as he tried to bind up his popped hip. The bone was awfully out of place, red in the exact area that it hurt. It was like a little bullseye for him to focus on. With a breath in through his nose, he began to try and fix what he could.

Halfway through, he heard the awful heartbeat and perhaps the sweetest hum.

Looking up and around, he sat still in horror against the wet grass. His jaw freely clenched as the cloth was sitting comfortably between his lips, saving his teeth as the beat grew louder. He took the time to shut the medkit shut carefully, trying to plaster whatever bandaging he had left around his hips.

A shadow loomed from the hill he was against and he didn't dare move. The lullaby that spilled forth in a melodic hum only gave him further goosebumps as the axe swung a little, showing itself as a separate entity from the mass of shadow. The figure skidded down with ease and the soft landing behind him was enough for him to know it was time to go.

Quentin lurched forward in fear, feeling his hips' pain swell like an awful fire. Only seconds into his sprint, something hit his back. For a moment, he only felt the thud of the item hitting his back. The second he turned in another direction did the pain hit him and he fell, gasping at the disgusting pain that spread through him like electricity. Despite his wishes, tears spilled from his eyes, his fingers twitching in the agony of how awful this felt.

The cold ground was so welcoming against his hot body but it only lasted for so long as he turned a little, stretching to see the murderer.

She was much more feminine than he had expected but even so, she was heavily muscled. Her hands were holding a broadaxe, the edge sharp and coated with remnants of old blood that slowly began to drip off from the rain. Her shoulders were just as broad, supporting most likely a lot of weight. Her hips had the slightest sway of a feminine touch, but she was clearly in these woodlands alone, with her bare feet torn up and dirtied from the mud splatter and hard work of...something. Her lips were such a striking color of red, but he was also sure that it was from blood.

She was a terrifying beauty as she walked forward, the faintest glint in her eyes peering through the white rabbit mask.

The woman wrenched her right fingers through his hair, nails clawing at his scalp with no remorse as they found a way under his beanie. His hands sprung up to fight her fingers, but the pain in his back only let his left hand lift. The other was dead weight, having long since dropped the medkit. Even as she lifted him off of the ground, she barely seemed to struggle with doing so. Her other hand stowed away the broadaxe into her leather belt, the heavy iron clinking against a series of small hand hatches.

Quentin felt his mouth dry out as his wet eyes followed the woman's movements. She reached her newly freed hand towards behind his back and wrenched out what felt like another bone from his back. He cried out, uncaring anymore about whatever dignity he had left. As of now, he was at the mercy of this heavy set woman.

She dropped him, letting go of his scalp finally. The schoolboy landed and all air left his lungs, leaving him literally breathless as he gasped. Like a land-locked fish, he writhed, trying to find a way to get his fingers working on his right hand. There was no feeling that he could feel. It was like having laid on your arm for hours on end, asleep, and only able to feel the weight of the bastard limb when you're finally rising.

Quentin turned on his back, gasping for air and feeling every inch of his body burn. It all felt so minimal as he saw her form hold the axe above her head, all of her muscles taught to strike him in half like lunchmeat.

He screamed, feeling all of his pain suddenly turn to nothing. Death was right there, closer than ever, closer than he had ever felt it.

"HEY!"

The boy didn't need to turn to know who had just hollered. He watched her, his left hand curled against his chest as her masked face turned. The knuckles of her hands turned a vicious white as her eyes laid on David. Her mouth turned downward into a hideous snarl, her teeth showing off in the cloudy light.

"Come on now, I thought we had a deal, you an' I. Unless ya want me to escape, which is fine by me, since I gett'a go out with the rest of the ladies."

Never had Quentin seen anyone get so angry that their veins popped out of their skin. This woman seemed to get horribly pissed at this man that the vessels in her arms swelled, unable to take how hard her heart was throbbing in her chest.

Her own body almost couldn't handle the rage she had inside her temper.

Like a snake, she hurled her axe suddenly at the other. Judging by how hard she threw it, this woman hurled it with all of her ungodly might, aiming for his eyes like it was nobodies business. Quentin didn't need to glance up to hear her hit her target. The thick thud caused him to start to, finally, shiver uncontrollably and he knew, he just knew, that he could no longer stay in this vicinity. It was too dangerous.

He began to crawl away as she moved in the opposite direction, his left hand clawing at the grass to pull him forward through the dirty forest floor. It was like a dream, a very, very bad dream, where you couldn't run anymore.

 _Oh please finish the generators._ He closed his eyes, all of the pain coming back to his body as he held back a sob. _Please. I don't want to die._

* * *

"Why are these so fucking hard all of a sudden!?" Feng wanted to bust open the generator she and Meg were respectively working on, her temper warming up her cold cheekbones.

Meg merely sighed, looking up with a tired expression, grease smeared over her left cheek.

As she pointed her chin up, Feng was looking at her with questioning eyes and a pinched brow. Her negligence in keeping an eye on the gen resulted in an awful spark on her side. One little look away was a one-way entry for a nasty spark to revert generator progress. It shook the whole thing.

"OW! FUCK!"

She resorted to kicking the generator with a cold shoe. It did nothing.

Regardless, the short girl bent down in front of the machine, tediously working away on the mangled beast of metal. Meg took this time to pull her hands away and try to think. If she tried to with her hands stuck between metals gears and hot wires, things wouldn't end well.

For some reason, this reminded her of the time in the fog. When one similar time was forcing them to work at such a slow pace that she knew Jake wanted to pull his hair out of the roots. But...what was it again?

She sighed and put her fingers to her right temple, trying to think back. She remembered the awful mud and oil stench, coupled with aging moss and molded wood from old boats. That poor page that had been left in the muck, too-

Witchcraft.

The words Benedict Baker flashed in front of her eyes just as she felt the overwhelming stench of gurgling swamp puddles swarming her senses. Feeling the fleshy goosebumps caused her to shudder before she felt bile rising. In an act of mercy for her lap, she dove to the side, nails digging into the cold dirt as she vomited on the forest floor. It was warm and for a moment, she could feel her lips again as heat laid in front of her like a disgusting heap of old food. She recoiled only a little.

"Whoa, hey, whoa, are you okay?"

She looked up as Feng tried to pull her braids from her face. Her stomach lurched and she gagged immediately, but nothing but an awful belch came forth. With a nod, she responded while wiping her mouth.

"Yeah. I guess. I just... I had flashbacks." A thought occurred to her as she searched her pockets, hoping to feel that crisp piece of muddy paper from before. She couldn't even remember if she had pocketed it. "Thanks, Feng."

The girl nodded and backed off, hands on her hips. Meg pulled herself away from the puke pile and stood up, searching her pockets for the crisp and probably wrinkled paper. In relief, she felt her fingers brush the left, back pocket of her jeans and she sighed. Now... What was on it?

With a careful pull, she slowly brought the item out and unfolded it. The stench of mud was long gone, but it was clearly coated in remnants of swamp water and blood. Despite the lack of smell, it was still a little disgusting to be holding between her fingers. Would she ever get used to the smell of blood and other noxious scents? She may never know.

She unfolded it and Feng squinted.

"What is that? Does that have something to do with your flashbacks?"

The athlete pinched her pale lips together, cringing as she tasted bile.

"Yeah. I think so. Care to read with me?"

Feng pursed her lips, then shrugged. "I'll keep working on the generator. Call me if you find anything interesting or the killer's here."

Meg nodded and looked back at the page between her fingers. As per usual, there was no date anymore as Baker had long since stopped filing them in, having lost himself to the grasp of the Entity.

I have yet to witness a horror that does not frighten me. They now have a larger advantage with which to force us into submission. For some time, the generators have been almost inoperable, devastated by something that I cannot infer. Only recently did I come across these totems of sorts, made with skulls and bones, scattered all across the playing field... The ones that glow appear to be the most influential to the killer's way of playing with its food. I have labeled them as Hex Totems. Those that which are not used? Perhaps they are Dull.

In the bottom were two drawings of these totems. As crude as they were, they were so neatly described and drawn that she wondered if he had given props to the killers too much. Even so, these bones were tied together well like a disgusting talismen. One on the right glowed a vicious yellow while the one on the left was simply outlined in black ink. Most of this bottom page was almost unreadable but there were certain props to make out.

"A hex totem, huh? Wonder if that was our problem then and now." She glanced to the sparking contraption, to Feng's pinched lips, then back to the page.

She folded it back into her pocket and began to run off. "Keep going! I'll be right back!"

She didn't hesitate to stay behind, even as Feng called out for her. If all else failed, she would just explain later what had occurred to her.

The screams in the distance made her grow increasingly worried. There were pain and shock, but she couldn't stop yet. She had to find the totem, otherwise, nothing would get done properly. Sure, they had several generators now, but it was too slow. Much too slow. If they wanted everyone out and alive, then everything had to go faster than now.

The red outline of a non-familiar figure caught her attention. Brushing wet leaves to the side, she observed the phenomena with a twitch in her brow.

Hooked, she thought. Whoever that is, they're hooked. A guy?

Trusting in the others having the courage to save him, she scurried along through the wet grass, vaulting carefully over ledges, searching every corner of grass and so forth.

It glowed, right? Why was it so damn hard to find a glowing totem in the middle of this dark woodland area? Was it just so well hidden by the Entity or what?

She chewed temporarily on her nail, grimacing at the taste of oil before she spat to the side again. As she did, the faintest glow of fire caught her attention, but she sighed in defeat. It was only fire, but maybe she could take a look?

Rounding around a bend in the wood, her heart skipped. Right around the other side of a sputtering, half-finished generator was a glowing stack of skulls and bones.

Shivering in anticipation and the chill, she reached out for the bastard of a totem and began to unwind it from its bindings. Something told her that completely destroying the piece would only anger a copious amount of beasts. Even though every inch of her was dying to tear this piece of shit literally limb from limb, she simply stuck her fingers into the coarse rope and peeled it away.

It broke and a roar from the sky sounded.

She looked up to see the sky wavering and shivering. It swirled with the colors of crimson and deep burgundy, like the colors of anger and unamusement clashing strong in a battle.

With one, trembling hand, Meg lifted her middle finger directly to the churning sky.

Another distant scream echoed, and she realized it was her time to turn and save her teammates, the red aura in the distance telling her everything she needed to know.

She crouched low, hiding away from anything that could possibly hurt her.

The humming was getting closer.


	18. Deceased Wins

Claudette pinched the wrappings between her lips, binding up David's wounds as best as she could. He looked like he was teetering on his last rope and was having trouble focusing. His breathing was raggid, his clothing was torn like nobodies business and even now, there was a glimmer in his eyes. She could tell as she stood to one side, letting him bend over and catch his breath. The positioning gave her good clearance with overlooking the gashes on his back.

"Hey, thanks," he muttered, a faint grin falling on his lips. "Really 'ppreciate it. Uh... What's yer name again?" He looked up at her a little and grimaced. David looked back down quickly, trying to not make his neck anymore sore than what it was. Claudette shook her head in wonder before she answered, wrapping the last of the bandaging around his shoulder.

"Claudette. And you're welcome. Just try not to get hooked again. The Entity gets pretty nasty from here on out."

She watched him stand up and flex, rolling his neck and stretching his muscles. She couldn't hold back a smile as his face changed drastically, particularly from shock to extreme gratitude.

"Whoa. I'm- I feel so damn good!"

He turned to her, rolling his once-hooked shoulder. "That's amazin'. How'd you do it?"

She simply shrugged. "I'll show you once we get out of here. I know someone will need it once we get out, after all."

David looked her up and down with a strong gaze but nodded. He didn't say anything more about that particular subject but did speak again, following her to a generator that was up on a hill.

"So, uh, how do we get out? I've been runnin' my ass off for as long as hell can keep up with me and I still dunno." Claudette merely motioned him over towards the machine and then kneeled down, beginning to work on it.

"You have to repair these. The generators. Once about...I think five of them are working, we can leave through the iron exit gates. The only problem is, is that lately, they've been really wild and hard to fix." She frowned. "The only reason Nea and I even got one done was from how much progress we can get from just two people."

As she prepared for the wires to spark, she moved them away from the interior as fast as she could. Regardless, the machine still took a step back in progression as the second piston slowed its movements.

He watched her work and she forced herself to keep her patience with him. Especially when the damn thing continued to regress. Even when she had a good streak going, good wasn't good enough for this hunk of metal. Had she also not been paying attention, the silent bursts of light would have had her hair frizzed to the heavens. She supposed she should thank her wits for that.

"Hey, what's that there?"

She sighed and stopped, looking up at him. "What?" She followed his finger pointing in one direction, then followed him. The botanist had no idea what the hell he had been looking at, but she supposed, ultimately, she had to at least make herself aware of whatever he was seeing. Even the dumbest stuff could become the most important when overlooked.

Twice, she blinked at the standing item, so cleverly hidden in the wet bushes. Very carefully, she put herself in front of David, running her hands over the piece. In a bizarre and macabre way, it was like an art piece that a college student had made for a clay show. Sadly, there was no paper mache to fill her with delight, nor was there drying clay for her to dust off. There was only mud that clung to the curving, white bones.

She began to untie it from its cord when David kicked it over the nearest rock. As she spun on her heel to face him, she could hear the display clatter.

"Hey! What were you-?"

"You were taking too long!" he hissed. "What's it gonna do? Throw an uppercut my way?"

She shoved him away in anger, ready to give him an earful of disrespecting the dead until his face turned white. His body hunched over, shuddered once and then he vomited in a heartbeat.

Claudette's hands curled inwards to her chest in disgust before she leaned down, trying to pat his back and give him some form of company. Her toes folded beneath her feet as she watched him vomit still, his entire body heaving out a horrifying amount of blood. It chunky and clearly warmer than the forest as steam rose. The smell made her recoil and hold her breath, as it smelled nothing of the heavy copper smell, but instead, it smelled of something more. She couldn't put her finger on it and she didn't want to either.

"D...David?" She put her hand up to her nose, watching him slowly stand upright. He stumbled to one side, then the other and she waited with her arms spread to catch him. He did, indeed, fall to the ground and she failed to catch his falling body. David landed hard in the muck, retching still with his eyes rolled back into his head, as white as snow.

A scream echoed in the distance and she jumped, hands coming up to her mouth. Her fingers quivered hard, no longer cold with how afraid she was. Never had she seen something like this. She had some medical experience, but this took the cake.

This was an emergency.

She shook him gently, losing her voice to call his name again. Shaking, she tended to him, with her hands coming up to his forehead and feeling his clammy, cold skin. There was no fever, but there was a certain lifelessness to him.

"Oh God," she breathed, gasping. "Please don't die on me, David. Oh please." She put her head on his chest, listening to his stuttering heartbeat. "Oh please, dear God," she whispered, "please don't let him die. Please let him live, it wasn't his fault. He's frightened, too. We're all frightened." She shut her eyes tightly, grasping his jacket to force back the tears. "Please, oh please, oh please."

A thunderous roar sounded from beyond the map and she jolted once again in fright. Against her hands, she could feel David's body heave and twitch. She looked down at him, then upwards, eyeing the raging storm of red. Claudette feared for their lives and wrapped her arms around his head, hoping to hide him from the Entity and protect him. It was futile, but regardless, she had to do something that made her feel at least a little bit helpful.

The iron door was so close but they weren't even halfway through the generators that they needed to be done! David was comatose and vomitting blood, someone was swinging from those godawful meat hooks-

Heaving herself up, she dragged David over towards the exit gate. The man weighed more than what she would have liked. She wasn't sure how much he weighed but she could definitely feel the weight of an athlete hanging in her hands. In other words, lots of muscle.

With her hands shaking from adrenaline and no longer cold, she let go of the possible football player as gently as possible, letting him lay in the cool grass. Removing her beret, she folded his hands inside of it, in hopes of keeping him warm somehow. The trees wouldn't cover him very well, but it would be better than absolutely nothing, she presumed.

In silence, she moved back to the generator and put her hands on it. Claudette took immediate notes on how much easier it was to suddenly put the gears back in place without trouble. Suddenly, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from the sparking wires as they came together more appropriately. Sure, they were still skill checks on her part, but they were much less of a pain. However, the longer she went, the more she noticed that there was no audio cue. Or if there was, it was quiet and almost buried under the single piston's noise.

She worked. In the rainy silence that she craved for back at home, she struggled with skill checks and strained to watch her hands and the wires.

After halfway through, she stopped to look up, wondering if she could see that red outline again of her teammate. Nibbling her lower lip, she listened, hoping to never hear the moaning sound of death from the Entity. She had never heard it from a friend, but she certainly recalled the raging winds when she had perished.

As per usual, the generator lit like a lovely beacon. However, despite her succession, she felt so exhausted. Her knees were shaking and her fingers were twitching at their own rate of consistency.

She was so tired and it came crashing down as the stirring clouds settled like a blanket in the sky. They were finally still, but even so, what were those noises from before?

A groan echoed by the power gates and she looked over to David, who was rolling over. Even from a distance, she could see his face was devoid of any color.

"Why am I... 'ver here...?"

Claudette walked over to him, helping him sit upright and then stand as she responded.

"You passed out. Vomitted blood and then collapsed." Her voice quivered but there wasn't anything she could do about it. As he got to his feet, he gently and slowly placed the beret back on her head, his gaunt face looking at her.

"Well...damn. Thanks for, uh..." He glanced away, looking for his courage to speak, but they didn't have time for that. She softly swatted his back.

"Come on, let's get the rest of these generators done before we die."

He sniffed and followed her with a stumble, deciding he didn't want to risk saying anything more. Just in case he vomitted all over their shoes.

"I think we need just one more. Or...or was it two?" She squinted, pinching her lips tightly.

David shrugged. "Which way are we-" he stopped to burp, "-ah, 'scuse me. Which way?"

Claudette used her free arm to point in the direction of the shack they had all previously met at.

"We need to get them over to an exit gate by the time the last one pops," she murmured. "I mean, the boys. We have to drag them out so that the killer doesn't kill them."

She could feel the scrutiny and confusion in his body language as his chin shifted in the corner of her eye.

"What, so she just doesn't throw hatches at us after we leave the shit place?"

Claudette nodded. She didn't know why she felt so confident in that notion, but something told her that once they left, the Entity would stop the beast. For at least a limited amount of time. She had seen it before, so she could only cling onto that little kind of hope before it fluttered away.

They approached the shack, both of them cold and shivering from the constant drizzle of rain. All of the boys were still unconscious, laying still save for their slight shivers and the fog from their breaths. Four bodies still remained, confirming that no one had actually been taken away while generators had been fixed.

"Oh shit." David's tiny little murmur caused Claudette to glance upward, eyeing his grey cheekbones and quivering lips. She followed his gaze just to finally hear Nea's angry and hissing voice coming from within the wooden shack.

"Um, a little fucking help, please?"

Pinned to the wall by two hatches in her tanktop, the street gangster, hung right by the door like an awful joke for human decoration. Claudette, however, saw no other wounds on her. Her arms were folded just fine, trying to keep her shirt down as it threatened to ride up a little higher than what was considered normal. The hatchet embedded onto the right side of her tanktop was the only thing keeping her shirt from riding all the way up. Then again, if both hatchets were in her tank top straps, she was certain Nea could have slipped out of her own shirt.

Claudette let David lean against the thrown-down pallet before she left to try to wrench the hatchets out of the wood. With perhaps about fifty percent or so of her strength, Claudette yanked once on the lowest hatchet. It didn't move.

"Yeah, that's what my problem has been," Nea retorted, watching Claudette pull with all of her might the second time. "I thought those muscles were for show, but I can't even get them to budge!"

David snorted. "No way. If ya get hit by one, I'd be surprised if she didn't knock ya down the first time."

Nea looked him over. "What the hell happened to you?"

With a little bit of venom in her tone, the botanist spoke, trying again with the hardy hatchet.

"He kicked over some sort of sacred totem, or artifact that was made of bones." When Nea's face held wild disbelief, she spoke further in depth of her answer. "Once he kicked it, he vomitted blood, straight blood, and passed out." For a moment, she stopped, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I've never seen anything like it before in my life, Nea."

The shack became quiet, save for the moaning wind outside. For just a moment, it was the most awful silence Claudette had ever experienced. The horror that smothered the air, the darkness that permeated the very sky and the faint stench of blood that painted the shack.

With a groan, David hobbled over. "Lemme give it a shot."

Claudette turned to him. "But you're ill!"

He snorted and grabbed at the edge of Nea's shirt. "I'm not gonna be pullin' that hatchet, Claudie."

"Hey, wait-" Nea's words were muffled and silenced as David quite literally ripped her shirt from the embedded weapons.

"We can't remove the hatchet. We need more than three people for that." He turned away, letting Nea have her privacy of slowly slipping out of her shirt. Claudette didn't know what to do, since the girl was now shirtless and in only a sports bra. She would get cold so fast!

As if hearing Claudette's inner worry, David removed his own jacket and tossed it over his shoulder. Nea caught it with a swift pair of hands and shoved it over her torso.

"Smells like blood and sweat," she mumbled, causing David to snort. He turned around to speak until a light came on in the distance and the hiss of the exit doors scared all three of them.

Claudette vaulted through the window frame to dart for the exit lever, her voice being thrown over her shoulder. "Drag them all over here! We have to get them out before the woman comes back!"

One light.

It was so slow. Then again, it was never fast, now was it?

Meg sprinted at Claudette so fast and in such silence, she tore her hand off the lever with a shrill squeak. Her hands came up in sheer fear before she realized it was only the athlete, bleeding from her scuffed knees. Behind her was Quentin, who looked like he was ready to faint in three seconds if he didn't sit down. Claudette observed them both and then shoved the latch down again with as much force as possible.

Two lights.

David and Nea were both bringing over two of the unconscious figures. She looked down at Bill and Dwight, eyeing their sleeping faces. She hoped their sleep was as peaceful as their expressions.

Ba-thump.

Three lights.

Quentin's look of absolute fear sent chills down her spine. He began mumbling under his breath, "Open, open, please open, come on-" Meg looked to him, fear on her own face as well, but it was for his own sanity.

The three, agonizing buzzers sounded and then the exit gates slid open like an old garage door. Claudette spun and hooked her arms under Dwight's and began to drag him out as the heartbeat raced in her ears.

Quentin screamed, causing Claudette to jump for the upteenth time that match. She looked up as she laid Dwight down, right next to the open fields that guaranteed safety. Quentin clutched his shoulder as a hatchet dug squarely into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Blood drooled from his shoulder like a happy dog at a park. It crawled down his top and he collapsed in seconds, gasping for air.

Like a monster, the woman crept around the corner of the brick wall, dirty fingers supporting her weight as she made her presence known to all of the survivors. Despite her simple mask, it was still haunting with all of the cracks and stains, but it fell behind in the terrifying factor compared to that awful axe in her hands and the three hatchets on her leather belt.

Behind her was Meg, supporting Jake's body with as much might as she could. Beside her was Nea, who was carrying Bill's body as David was dragging Ace to the best of his ability.

No one moved, save for her.

In one swift motion, she swung the axe upward as she stood over Quentin, ready to pry his head from his shoulders.

Claudette had never seen David move this fast. Even when running away from the killer, he was at a relaxed jog. Now, he was diving in, as fast as a football player for a football.

Her knees locked in fear as she watched David's hands openly catch the falling axe. His entire body almost bent into the will of the woman, who looked like she was barely putting in any effort into a killing.

As David settled his feet into the ground, protecting Quentin, Claudette could hear her growling viciously. It shocked her, how so much someone humanoid could mimic the noises of a wild wolf.

Nea suddenly hoisted Bill's body over her shoulders and dead sprinted past the woman.

She seemed to loosen her grip a little as she watched Nea run, her head turning in an almost frantic way. It was just enough to let David gather himself and rearrange his own grip, throwing the axe back in her direction like a basketball.

Claudette watched her feral lips turn upwards into a disgusted snarl before the woman gathered her strength again and brought it down on both men, desiring to catch both of their heads under the blade. She saw all of the light in David's eyes only flicker as he ducked down over Quentin, hoping to give the bleeding boy a chance to escape by crawling past the brick layout.

She covered her eyes, daring to not watch the awful spectacle. The blade thunked down hard and she could hear it hitting bone and meat all in one swing. No hesitation.

There was an awful, awful pause. It lasted for several, long seconds before a soft gasp slipped and a body fell to the ground, hitting hard against the broken road.

A pair of shuffling, then running feet slipped past Claudette and the killer. That movement was the only reason for Claudette to find the courage to look up and over her shoulder, watching Meg nearly collapse with Jake hanging from her like a dead branch.

The clatter of iron against the pavement brought her back to looking forward.

Feng lay still in the female's arms, her eyes closed and the axe buried in her back. David was barely able to drag out both Ace and Quentin, one in each hand, murmuring to Claudette, "Don't look, Claudie." She looked to him and his face was more gaunt than ever. In fact, horror was etched in his face as his lips quivered. "I couldn't stop her 'cuz I flinched."

She looked forward again, watching the masked woman wear distraught lips that twisted into what looked like would be a sob. Her hands, filthy and bloodied, held onto Feng's petite body in her lap. Her fingers shook as she stroked her pale face, looking for the signs of life that would bring her to comfort. Then, very softly, she watched the killer bring Feng against her, humming a broken, gasping lullaby.

A rumble of noise opened the sky. Claudette cringed as those god-awful legs twisted from the clouds and descended towards the gamer's body.

The huntress hissed and moved away, Feng still hanging limply in her arms.

Y our reckless desire is your problem. The girl is mine now, isn't she? You failed me, Huntress.

Talons of black thrusted through her back, spraying blood across both of their fleshy bodies. In the silence, Claudette felt tears running down her face as she watched the woman reach for Feng's body before collapsing. All noises that left her lips were animalistic howling. Like a mother who just lost a precious child to the hands of fate.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, encouraging her to move on.

Without a word, she picked Dwight back up against her and walked away from the place that she thought was haunted by a hum. She could no longer hear that song anymore.

* * *

No one spoke after the match. The crackle of the fire and the whimpering of wounds slowly healing were some of the only things that gave life to the atmosphere. Meg had taken the time to help shove the extra book page into the journal once she had sat down on one of the logs, her knees quivering.

Laurie was already there when they encountered her. She didn't question the looks on the faces she was familiar with and the faces that were new. Everyone appeared ill, exhausted and depressed. The woman didn't ask anything of them but simply began to help with whatever she could. Healing was a top priority and was done with the help of the old veteran, who was irritably puffing his cigarette, and the botanist, Claudette.

Jake silently searched through the book, taking notes in his head as to how to defend against certain killers. The new hex totems page that Meg had found back in the swamp was plenty detailed and was enough to specify why the generators sometimes malfunctioned on their own.

Laurie, who was wide awake, prepared food. In a package that she had found near her was a basket of dried fruit, a freshly beheaded chicken and cookies that resembled the ones that Laurie had prepared back in Haddonfield. She willingly shared the food and made sure others with no appetite still ate. For now, it seemed like she was the most stable-minded, and would have to do "house chores", as she put it.

Collectively, she washed clothing, tucked others in with anything extra and helped keep the food cooking with the fire.

She began to know David and Ace more and more, particularly as they hunted for food. She learned through conversation that David was a highschool student who frequented fight clubs and bar fights for fun. One of the only places he felt free in that wasn't such places were places like rugby fields and practice, where he could relieve himself of his need for action. However, it never really worked out. Especially when he began to relay his last memories of his hometown, Manchester, just before he was stolen away to these awful games.

"Well, I remember there was this punk that said I wasn't good 'nough to really stick it to 'im. So I said, "well, why don't we have a go at it down the bar alleyways." And he agreed. So, I thought "great, I get a chance at beatin' this asshole's arse."" Then he shrugged as he picked at some weird berries on the ground. "Then I got over to the spot. When I did, I saw 'im take off down another ginney. Thought he was runnin' from me, and I thought "like hell I'll let this loser bleet his own goat, then run." Last thing I remember?" Another shrug. "I remember wakin' up in some busted factory."

Listening to him talk was quite the amusing treat, really. She never usually heard this type of dialect. In some ways, she could completely understand what he was saying, but in other ways, it was like a cockney accent when they asked for water but said "fisherman's daughter."

"What 'bout you, lass?"

She pursed her lips in thought as she plucked some familiar weeds, originally pin-pointed by a tired Claudette. "Well, everything was real quiet. I found it strange because it was Halloween night, and for god-knows how long, I kept getting chased by this...this... I don't know, this man. I don't think I can really call him that anymore."

Laurie shuddered before she breathed in, continuing.

"He just suddenly showed up, like the Boogeyman. I was babysitting and thought nothing of it, like every other Halloween night. It changed when he tried to kill me and...I was so scared he would hurt the kids. The only thing I can really remember is passing out after watching-"

She stopped. Why couldn't she recall it? Was it, perhaps, trauma? Laurie put a hand up to her head, frowning at the ground until Ace gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him and he simply gave a solemn, somber nod.

"It's okay if you don't remember, Laurie. Sometimes I have a lil' bit of trouble remembering everything myself."

She wondered why that was.

Even after they continued to scavenge and David almost ate toxic berries, she was bothered by the idea that her memories were foggy. What was hiding behind her inability to recall what had happened just before she woke up in a silent, mournful Haddonfield? Where did the rest of the place go? Why only Lampkin Lane?

* * *

Hours passed. It was quiet as they added food and wood to the fire, keeping it burning and alive from all of the shrubbery around the forest hairline. Every now and then again, perhaps every five hours, someone would find another food basket. No one complained, but several were suspicious about the possibility of poisoning. Especially Dwight.

Over those hours, the survivors leaned over the book, pointing out anyone they were familiar with. Laurie pointed out the Boogeyman from several matches ago and a series of folks cringed in rememberance.

Hex totems, generators, the red stain, the hatch and more subjects were crossed, described and defined to the last detail. They wanted to be ready for next match.

The Hag snickered, looking up at a twitchy bastard that she, somehow, found some amusement in.

"Yours is gonna end up goin' back soon. You ready for it?"

A sigh was her response, followed by the wide eyes that never seemed to stop glistening to turn to look at her.

"Always ready to test these survivors on their survival skills. And many, many more details, of course." Somehow, the bastard spoke fairly well around his face-pulling contraption. "I will let you eat what I don't keep, Hag."

She grinned, thin and destroyed lips pulling away from needles of teeth. Herman would be ready next match. But would this one?

The tiny female turned, looking at the ghostly Wraith that was behind her and against the corner. He was staring at her but soon slowly turned, eyeing the shadows that were finally shifting around the anxious beast of a killer.

Time to protect your lands, Bubba. For your family property must be kept safe. Right?

The echo of the Entity's voice made them all shiver with the anticipation of bloodlust. The man twisted his sledgehammer between his fingertips and walked forward, dropping into the darkness that the Hag presumed was something acute to the Entity's bowels. Regardless, it looks like the kid was ready.

Hag watched the rest of these crooked murderers gather around the windows, ready to view the arena. She drooled as she poked her head through Max's legs, excited to watch the Entity escort the survivors to another feast.

"I wonder who the four are gonna be," she hissed, soon darting her gaze to the Huntress on the left. Her top was heavily shredded, only patched up slightly by the Nurse before Huntress had simply waved her off. She didn't want help, apparently, as she wanted time to herself. But even still, she kept her eyes on the ring of survivors so far below.

Well, she thought, I guess everyone's gonna watch today.

Now... Who would be picked?


	19. Livestock

Sleep was restless, filled with groans and sharp gasps as the Entity toyed with the survivors. Brows were coated with sweat, hands clenched tightly against the nearest piece of clothing that could be clung to-

No one slept well when plagued by evil.

Quentin knew he had been with the Entity. It was sometimes a blur of a dream, but the air was so cold against the warmth of blood and the only thing you could recall was the immense pain.

Breathing in slowly, he woke himself up with ease once he felt his blood seep into the bloodweb, and his new item was obtained. A medkit was always useful against the ghouls and haunts they had been facing for so long. He wasn't sure how long, but it felt like an awfully godawful amount of time.

The smell of hot iron and fire brought him to his senses fast and he sat up so hard, his bangs fell into a curling mess in front of his face. He didn't need to see, however, to know exactly what was going on and what had changed. The back of his neck was slick with sweat, his upper lip curled just enough to catch beaded sweat from his forehead and he detested this awful feeling of heat. If he didn't get out of here, he was sure to have a heat stroke.

Standing, he could feel the grime of the cement on his hands and dusted them off on his jeans. His clothing was sticking hard to his skin, forming every movement he was making and thoroughly keeping him uncomfortable. Using his sleeve, he wiped off the sweat from his face and then pried open a couple of buttons on the top of his shirt. It would expose his skin a little bit, but he decided that it would help keep some sweat off of his clothes.

A blade slowly ran itself up the slight exposure of Quentin's skin. It was cold, sharp and traveled all the way up to Quentin's chin, forcing him to look up at an all-too-familiar face. His knees lost feeling but he didn't hesitate to bare his teeth.

"Why such a nasty face, Quenny? Got a couple o' grudges for old times' sake?"

He gritted his teeth as he eyed that disgusting yet familiar face. That smirk was everything he hated when those crooked and thin lips turned upward to show off the yellowing enamel.

"Aww," came that mocking voice. "Such an unpleasant face. Maybe I can fix it a little?" Knives carried themselves up to drag across his left cheek but he moved away, uncaring of the small series of cuts that were now presented on his skin. Quentin didn't dare let his sneer drop.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked, taking a step back to avoid getting too close to his dream man.

The older man began to walk around, pacing with a little dance on the tip of his old shoes.

"Well, that's quite a funny question, son," he purred, dragging his fingers across his lips. "Because you see, I think we got here the same way, by the same thing!"

Quentin felt his heart stop then flutter in his chest, his expression falling from the sheer disbelief. The burned man gave a bark of a laugh, his chuckles turning into outright wheezes. Any gasps turned into coughing as he leaned against his knees.

"This..." Quentin took another step away, "this can't be real. You're not real."

The pair of eyes before him glittered in delight. The killer straightened, throwing his hands out towards the room, gesturing to its entirety.

"Oh really, son? You don't think this," he emphasized, doing a 360-degree turn, "isn't real? You don't think the Entity is real here, too?" Those gloves came together and the knives hissed against one another from even the slightest movement. "We share the same lot, boy. A bargain! A free meal if I get to torture you more and more here."

Quentin observed the mans burned fingers disappearing into a wall behind him and the boy was consciously aware of staying away from the rest of the walls. He turned his head over his shoulder, keeping the man in the corner of his eye just in time to see those fingers stretching towards him.

He could also see the stairs, leading out of here.

Spinning hard, he weaved himself around the knives and excited fingers, feeling beads of sweat drip from his jaw. His shirt was the only thing caught but the rip was none-too-satisfying. It let him know how close he was to being minced meat as he tumbled up the stairs.

"Hey!"

He could hear the voice from behind but didn't dare look over his shoulder. Stumbling and using his hands to grapple for more of the stairs, he darted up further along the cool steps, relishing in the temperature compared to the boiler room.

Quentin took one step towards the grass as he breathed in cool air. Not once did he stay still as he knew he had to keep going and took a running start.

The ground beneath him parted like massive, grassy jaws. Tufts of grass crumbled with his hands as he grasped for anything, something, to catch his fall. All he received was wispy dirt falling with his fingertips. As he fell with a cry, he watched the silhouette above him take off their hat in some sort of sick salute over his early departure.

Quentin felt his eyes open and he laid still to catch his breath, listening to the crackle of the open fire. Jake was over him, dark eyes scrutinizing him from what felt like head to toe. He wasn't the only one as others, he could see from his peripheral, that others were sitting upright.

His hands came up and he rubbed at his eyes, feeling them shaking against his eyelids as he tried to rub himself back into reality. In his right ear, Jake spoke.

"You were screaming."

Quentin sighed slowly and merely nodded. "Yeah... I know." He pulled his hands back, seeing confused faces. "...I just basically had a dream where I couldn't wake up. That's all."

Laurie walked over and he could see her, as strong as ever. She, too, had purple trying to grace beneath her eyelids, but even still, she was a gorgeous figure of courage, endurance, and a long, long struggle. He could relate in some ways, but he still felt like such a coward.

"The next game is beginning to start."

A long, low groan echoed from Dwight and Quentin in quiet unison.

Jake stood, his hands folding slowly. "Four of us will go. The Entity is starting to get done playing games where most of us survive." As Quentin sat upright, he continued. "The Entity said that it would finally be a four versus one. No if, ands, or buts. Should we try to go in as five or more, we could end up as dead as any other corpse."

"How do you figure that?" David asked, standing and stretching. It looked like he was rearing to go, more strongly than ever.

"I dreamed." Jake turned around to meet the athlete's gaze. "I dreamed and I was brought back to the bloodweb. I was told the rules twice, then punctured twice in the chest to keep my promise of telling everyone." He frowned, clutching at his shirt and jacket. "I don't know why it didn't bother to tell everyone else, but..."

David put his hands on his hips in confidence. "I'll go! Ain't no way I'll sit 'round. I'm in mint condition, after all!"

Jake gave a nod, putting a hand on his chest. "I will, too. Claudette," he began, turning to her. "I give the journal to you to hold. Keep it safe until I get back. Or even if I don't."

Bill gave a grunt and stood, rolling his shoulders and inhaling deeply on his cigarette. Hell knows how he still had some. "Let me come, too. I may be old, but I fought in wars before. This is just a round of hell that I'm capable of keepin' up with."

A hand patted the veteran's back and Quentin had never seen such a nasty look cross the man's face until he looked at the other with the smirk. Strangely, he reminded Quentin of David. Both never seemed to miss a beat for the action.

"I'll tag along, too. Us fine-wine men can make a great team!"

Bill's cigarette twitched between his pinched lips before he spoke. "I'll end up dead if caught with you." He blew smoke in Ace's face and turned away, walking up towards the other two consestants. "And I'm more of a bourbon guy, anyway. Clears the sinuses."

"Stay safe, okay?" Meg stood up, her brows furrowed. Jake looked her in the eyes and nodded.

For a moment, Quentin stilled his breath, practically shaken as he just watched those two have such a close connection. Such an intense feeling swept through the air for a moment that his fingertips went cold. It was like they had seen more than anyone else, experienced more of this arena than anyone else, and lived to tell the tale.

Jake looked skyward and then nodded.

"Let's go."

The rest of the group watched them go in the silence of night, wondering if they would make it back alive. What could they hope for anymore?

* * *

He wasn't sure how he got here. Last he had checked, he had been walking with the other boys towards the forestry. Then he blinked once and the entire scenary had changed. The grass was now stiff and yellow like autumn had hit the streets harder than the Backstreet Boys. The sky had darkened into a strange red hue and expanded over the yellow cornfields that swayed in the slightest breeze.

Bill grunted and turned, looking behind him. A three-story hold was behind him, with white, peeling siding and rusted brickwork. The wood beneath his feet squeaked none-too-quietly but it couldn't be helped at this point. With the way the swinging lightbulbs winked and sparked with slight life, he could only imagine that there could be something nearby that would use the electric juice so fervently.

Puffing on the cigarette, he examined the passageways, reminding himself of which way went where. Some were dead ends and others had the slightest escape of a window.

In other words, this place was a nice deathtrap for the inexperienced.

The top floor was the most presentable as he got a good look over the cornfields that swayed with the dry breeze. He could see the generator beside him, two in the cornfield and another by a large tree. His nose wrinkled as he observed the awful display of hanging pigs and cattle before turning to look around further over the poorly made upper deck.

He could hear the faintest heartbeat and the tall fields shifted, but he couldn't tell if they were from a force he didn't want to reckon with or one that his eyes caught out of mistakes.

Sighing, he dipped down next to the generator beside him, hoping to fix it within a minute or two of his own time with ease. Then again, when was it ever that easy to just repair a genny with a killer running around?

He watched carefully as the first piston began to jitter and then slowly move just as it came along.

Ba-thump.

"Oh for Christ's sake," he muttered, immediately pulling away from the generator to tuck himself securely in the red locker. He didn't like tight spaces in this kind of situation, but what could he do? Hiding behind these boxes certainly weren't going to cover the top of his hat and he couldn't go out of either door in fear of running into the bastard.

Opening up the door, he stepped carefully inside and shut it behind as the heartbeat drummed louder in his ears and so fast he wondered if it was his own heart. His hand came up over his cigarette, hiding the fiery glow as he attempted to smother it into the floor of the locker. It was only a slight loss, to lose a cigarette. He'd get one later.

He could hear the heavy breathing and stiff inhaling from his right side. It made his muscles tense up, as he recalled more than enough times of war against the hoard of undead. Massive chills dug through his skin like moles in a front lawn, coming out as goosebumps. He didn't prefer to call it PTSD, but that was sure as hell what he had.

Seeing this beast round the corner caused him to shudder. The hulking frame never ceased to impress him. The biceps were ripped with muscle and he could see why. A yellow chainsaw was propped between both hands that he couldn't see, and a sledgehammer butt was poking from around his side. He must have been holding both weapons between his dirty fingers, revealing how much strength he had.

A sledgehammer was not by any means light. The head was made of iron, made to hit sturdy, metal objects. Blacksmiths would use them to beat the metal into shapes for swords and even now, sledgehammers were used to deal massive amounts of damage to anything.

And it was in the hands of someone who would use it with an unquenchable bloodthirst.

The killer brought his arms back and kicked the generator. Not once, but twice. It sparked and squeaked, even as the killer turned around and brushed past Bill's locker.

Sweat slipped down slowly on Bill's brow, his heart stuttering like nobody's business. All he could think of was how close he had been to death if he had been caught. If that beast had only just opened the locker doors...

As quietly as possible, once the noise of the heartbeat died away, Bill slipped out. Securing the door shut with as little noise as he could manage, he began to fix the regressing generator, chewing on his lip out of habit now that his cigarette wasn't between his teeth.

Bad habits died hard. It was like minding your own business, sometimes.

He set to work. He pulled at the cords to straighten them, shoved gears back into place and tried to help commit to the lack of grease by using spit. It wouldn't do much, but it was at least something that would assist the damned machine.

Halfway through, he could hear it again. That damned heartbeat that drummed away, signaling the approach of another motherfucker.

Once again, but with a sigh this time, he ducked back into the locker. Peering through the slits of the locker, he watched the brute look around, like some dumb ox before kicking it again. The generator hissed once more and sparked like old fireworks before it simply became weeping specks of fire.

He listened and waited. The heartbeat took longer to die off this time, but this almost meant that he took longer to get out.

Once it faded into nothing more than a vivid memory, Bill stepped out from the red locker, turning around to gently shut it behind him. With a slight click, it latched back into place and allowed him to move back to what he was doing.

He turned and a hand wrapped around his throat.

All natural thoughts of being quiet escaped him as his legs kicked upwards, a choked gasp becoming mangled. His limp knee screamed in pain from his efforts, but this didn't mean he wasn't going to try and avoid escape. This was adrenaline or nothing and he was damned determined to never witness a defeat without the cons being outweighed greatly.

But how the fuck did he suddenly get there so fast? There was no heartbeat! Not a single sound!

Callused fingers gripped hard around his throat but ended as Bill was forced over his shoulder. Like a toddler, he was tossed around on the broad muscle before an arm secured itself around his waist, showing no fear in Bill's feet.

Wishing he had his cigarette still, he used all of his strength to start trying to break any bones he could. His legs lashed out, hoping to find a place to off-center the brute and also attempting to kick his head off. It was unlikely, but Bill could still hope for an escape as they descended from the top of the stairs. He didn't know where precisely they were going, but he knew it was to one of those damned meathooks.

He wasn't going to let himself get hooked easily, by any means.

Bill shifted all of his weight to his left and brought up his right elbow, using the bone to smash the back of the cervical vertebrae just beneath the brain stem.

A pig-like squeal bubbled through the face Bill never did fully acknowledge. The arm slackened a little around his waist, giving him the incentive to pull his elbow up and back down again, as hard as he could against the bone. He could feel, even through the painful vibrations up his arm, that the boy was made from muscle and was certifiably big-boned for the intentions of sabotaging the rest of the survivors. Or his hobbies were only delightful for investigators of murder.

The man stopped walking, the arm slackening again just a little bit. Bill moved only slightly to use his elbow again but was stopped. He gave a yell as he was dropped to the ground so hard that all of the air in his lungs left his solar plexus. The smell of farm animals and wheatfields hit his nostrils hard as he gasped, trying to fight back.

A hand grabbed the back of his coat, beginning to drag him down further and around a corner that directed to the bottom of the house. The basement.

With another gasp between his lips, he pulled himself up, letting his coat fall against the air and sausage fingers.

There is no damn way I'm getting hooked. The kids won't even know where I'd be if I screamed.

With this in mind, he darted down several stairs leading out of the place, hearing angry squealing from within the house. It was followed by heavyset footsteps, even as a generator popped like a floodlight. Without thinking, Bill simply rounded around the nearest corner and took off for the next set of steps that led from the porch. Once close, he dipped down into a crouch to hide his tracks as he cuddled himself in the neck of the porch and the wide steps. His knee was throbbing in hot pain, but he did his best to ignore it.

The heartbeat sounded still, getting closer. Bill watched as the dumbass walked up the steps, just only a few inches away from seeing him lying on the ground.

From there, just for a second, he could see an awful face. He couldn't describe it, but there was something disgusting about the face. It was loose, seemingly stitched to more muscle and skin with thick, black stitching. Was it even stitching? God knows it could have been hand-made staples that were haphazardly digging into the cranium. The only thing that looked even remotely natural about the skull was the tuft of hair that resembled grass, sticking upwards with such a messy shape that he was certain he hadn't bathed since he was a kid.

Yikes.

The roar of the chainsaw caused him to look up, prepared to run. Peering over the edge of the faded-white porch, he watched Ace from afar fix his shades with that god-awful grin and run off towards the cornfields. The beast was none too far behind him, angrily snorting.

Bill shuddered but took this chance to slip away, heading away from the cornfield and closer towards a series of broken walls, stacked debris and towards the generator he had been working on upstairs. It was dangerous to go back up there, but he was already so close. Fixing it now while Ace was a stupid decoy could benefit all of them for a short period of time. As long as Ace didn't fall to the chainsaw or sledgehammer.

He would have to work as fast as he usually could when it came to the generators. Hopefully, he would have time to do so.

* * *

Jake clutched his gloves between his teeth, muffling his hisses and grunts of discomfort. He had barely grazed by the beast's hammer twice, but now he was wounded deeply enough to bleed through his clothing on his back. Regardless, he was doing his best to fix a generator while the others did...something.

He didn't know who sounded the last genny, but he couldn't be more thankful. All he knew was that it wasn't Bill. He could tell as he had a vantage point of watching Bill near a large tree of swinging, dead animals. Livestock.

With sweat running down his temples, he kept his gaze forward, only looking around when he heard the heartbeat. Sometimes it died away rapidly, then other times it would slowly fade. There was no appropriate, in-between way of describing it. Jake had to be careful unless he wanted to go up on one of the meathooks.

I need a medkit, he thought, still grinding his teeth into his gloves. If I can find one soon, I can feel better about wandering around on my own.

A cry sounded in the distance, echoing just enough to where Jake could hear it. He wasn't sure who it was, but something told him it was either Bill or Ace. The boy simply kept to himself, wanting to finish the contraption before moving on. The only problem was that he was only half-way through, and someone was about to get placed on a hook like a snack for the Entity.

Turning a gear, he looked up as another cry echoed. From the corner of his eye, he could see a red outline of a figure, definitely swinging from the hook's tongue.

What was that red hue he could see, though? It certainly wasn't the red-stain. And the further they went up the line of creatures to fight, the more prominent it became. Was this a way of saying that the stronger they are, the less of a stain they could see? Or vice versa?

 **Isn't it lovely?**

He froze for a moment, and that moment was his doom as the generator sparked and shook like a lonely firecracker. The heat grazed his cheekbones, like a succubus kissing his skin.

The voice continued, even as he took the time to crawl away with a limp, cold wrists digging into his side to stop some of the bleeding and pain. If he dug his fingers in now, the grease would flow into his bloodstream.

 **What a good boy, telling them all that you should play by my rules.**

What do you want? he thought, pulling himself to where he believed the killer shack was. Was the basement here?

 **Oh, you should know my desires by now, Jake. I want to watch you squirm and cry.**

His brow twitched in clear agitation but it died away as soon as he heard the heartbeat. Keeping his gloves between his teeth, he darted for a locker, pulling himself inside as best as he could. If he left fingerprints, he wiped them away as quickly as he could with the sleeve of his jacket, smearing it along the metal before he hopped inside.

The dark, rusting locker smelled of an old warehouse. Wrinkling his nose, he lowered himself towards the floor, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around his side to prevent further bleeding and tearing of the wound. It would also help him stay hidden for a longer period of time and maybe confuse the killer for a period of time. Hopefully, it would be enough for him to get away.

He stopped breathing as he sat still, listening to the weighted footsteps that walked outside. Compared to the others, there was a certain pace to these boots. It was hastened, urgent and unsteady. Every time he could hear a breath, it sounded like a stressed inhale, trying to distort itself into some kind of wail or cry of distress.

A series of whispers caught his ears. It was so faint that he almost didn't hear it. Why were they there? Were they directing the killer to his hiding spot?

Jake slowly reached up in the locker, grabbing a hatchet that was clean and ready to be used off the rack and down in front of him. It was stretching his wound, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He had to defend himself in as many ways as possible and remain as the element of surprise in this matches of death.

The footsteps slowed in front of the two lockers.

His lips and teeth ground deeply into his gloves, nearly piercing the fine leather as he waited and watched the shadows in the slits.

Jake clutched the hatchet between his chilled fingers and slowly bent backwards as best as he could. If he could ready himself to throw the hatchet with all of his might, even if he missed, it would be a temporary distraction and he could run for it.

The doors flung open and he let the weapon launch with all of his might, aiming at nothing and hitting nothing. He could hear it fly into the wooden floorboards and connect with a mighty thud.

The gruesome face turned in surprise and he took his chance. Throwing himself out of the locker, he aimed to prop his feet into the ground and sprint. He also pondered a plan as fingertips brushed the back of his neck and graced down the back of his jacket. The man could have breathed on him at that point, but his plan pulled through, even for just a little bit.

He rounded the nearest corner. Jake didn't have to look back and listen to know the bastard was following him like a ghost.

Jake hopped back into the shack through the window and finally tossed a glance over his shoulder.

The awkward and dispositioned face watched him for a moment from the window, head tipping to one side. It didn't seem to realize what Jake was doing as it pulled away from the window to follow after him around the other side, where the other entryway was. The woodsman pulled back just when the killer was out of sight and threw himself into the other locker, closing the door fast and ducking down again. If he had to repeat the same gesture, he would do it.

 **Jake, Jake, poor Jake!** mused the voice. **Haven't you seen that face before?**

Had he? Or was the Entity merely toying with him?

His hands reached up to get another hatchet was quietly as possible, feeling the wood grain slipping through his fingers and into hands like polished glass.

 **Look at the face and remember. Doesn't he look-**

The footsteps rounded the corner and close to the lockers without hesitation this time.

 **-familiar?**

The doors opened once again. The hatchet flew through his fingers and he looked up at the face to see the horror that he didn't turn this time, but instead caught him by a fistful of his hair.

He screamed into his gloves as he was lifted, hands flying up to try and lessen the pain by grabbing the wrist. His fingers wrapped around what felt like a bracelet, and he would have missed it had he not put the face and the clothes together with it.

The horror that stared at him had mobile eyes that drifted over Jake's face, colored brown. Crooked teeth and fat lips seemed completely out of place, bordered by metal bars that pried the second sheet of skin open. Black stitching, thicker than the width of his thumb, secured the second skin on, fitting just in front of the ears and not touching the hairline that receded into a tuft of unruly, dark hair.

 **Go on, who is it?** it prodded.

The beast shifted weight to throw Jake over his shoulder. He grunted and struggled immediately, taking his gloves from his mouth as he kicked.

 **WhO iS It**

"Let go of me!" Jake writhed and kicked, casting a glance over his shoulder as the hook came into view. "Let go of me! Leatherface!"

* * *

Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɏ Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠØ₩ɆɆ₦


	20. Bubba's Workfield

Bill truly wanted to smack this moron across the jaw. That smug grin remained, even while the entire man was left swinging around on the meat hook like he was aging beef. And he even had the absolute audacity to talk about his luck procuring him a long chase with the killer. This man was mad or just simply stupid. Well, at least he had prolonged the beast long enough for him to finish the rooftop generator and fetch his military coat again.

"Ow! Easy on the back there, friend." Bill sighed around his cigarette, smoke exhaling in a small cloud of exasperation.

"If ya weren't so damn ornery and reliant on your shitty luck, you'd be in a better position. The reason you got caught in the first place is because you lack good footwork and maybe even grey cells to comprehend it." He felt Ace cringe, but he wasn't sure if it was the pinching and pulling of the torn shoulder skin, or if it was the blatant words of "get your shit together." Regardless, he finished his work and stepped back.

"Come on, let's go finish before you get yourself killed."

Bill watched the man purse his lips in surprise before he turned away. He didn't even seem to take the whole ordeal to heart.

The cornfields were their best bet of slipping away into hiding. They were tall and thick enough to be a pain to peer through. The only problem was that the stupid corn moved with them, tilting in the direction they were planning to go and splitting when they tried to duck down between them. It smelled old and musty enough to resemble the insides of the old farm home. It was thick enough to where Ace even sneezed loud enough for Bill to nearly convulse into a standing position, old military instincts kicking in. Once he realized who it was, he sighed again and moved on, tempted to just leave the idiot behind before he gave him a heart attack.

He rounded around a pile of tires, helping himself through a window to reach a generator. Thanks to Claudette and Jake, he always remembered to look up to find generators. Those kids were always so observant, even in the biggest times of distress.

Even as he dipped down to the generator, he could remember the faces he loved before. He remembered the faces that held brief moments of happiness and relief, anger, grief, and panic. The faces he promised to protect until the end of his life.

He missed them.

In the distance, he could hear Jake screaming. He knew who it was, as he had ingrained within the ability to tell who was who, no matter the situation. Granted, it was still hard in some situations.

Standing to his feet, he pointed directly at the grey-haired man.

"Stay here and keep working. I'm going to go save Jake." The veteran turned away just in time to see the red outline of Jake fade. It was a disgusting way to give a hint, but it was a hint nonetheless as to where he was. Bill stomped out his cigarette after one last puff and moved forward, leaving the fiery embers in the cold dirt.

Deciding to go down the long line of corn rows, he felt it was best to not step through or around the bendy straws that were the corn stalks. They made too much noise and gave away his position fairly easily. Hopefully, if he went toe-to-toe with this brute, he would be able to lose him or distract him with the amount of corn in this shitty farm.

The heartbeat was no longer there, but Jake was struggling off the hook. Due to pain, he had bitten his lip so hard that there was a line of blood dripping down his chin. His hands were reaching back behind him at the metal hook, his struggles pushing his shoulder both forward and back on the meat hook.

 _What is the kid doing? He's going to get hurt like that._

He stayed crouched down and made his way to the hook. He looked in any direction, wondering if he'd hear the heartbeat soon.

Peering around a hay bale, he glanced around the area, trying to squint past the burning barrel. Sitting behind a tree was David, who looked ready to move and grab without any hesitation.

Bill looked up at Jake, wondering if he had finally stopped struggling and noticed them both. Jake looked down and Bill felt his heart twist. Those dark eyes were now wild, wide enough to where the pupil could be seen against the irises. Said eyes darted forward and then stared straight ahead, unmoving, even as spider limbs crawled up the spine of the hook and began wrapping around like cocoon silks.

 _Is he struggling because he sees something?_

It dawned on him that the killer might have had a certain... Oh what was it? A perk? Something that was given by the Entity, the same way the survivors got items and still had to spare blood for extra balance, will-power, and luck. Thinking of the first surprise Bill had gotten with the locker made sense. He must have something on that hides the heartbeat.

That's not good.

Bill glanced up, watching David's face twist into irritation and impatience. The old veteran gestured with his thumb in the direction Jake was looking and then drew that thumb over his throat. He hoped he got the clues because they would have to do something before the spider bitch took the boy away like the cookie from a schoolkid's lunchbox.

Breathing in and sighing, he stood up properly to run in front of Jake and lure the killer away. Bill was old, after all. If he got hooked, then that was fine. The kids needed to live anyway.

"Hey, fuckin' ugly! Over here!"

Both the woodsman and Bill looked to the now-standing, head-strong athlete. His hands were on his hips and a broad smirk crossed his face, as prominent as Francis egging on an infected after it was already dead. This thing, however, wasn't already dead and he could hear the chainsaw getting revved. It sent cold sweat down his back.

David sprinted past Bill, that smug grin still not coming off of his face. The man cursed and pressed himself against the itchy haybale, the heartbeat now making his own chest reverberate with how loud it was. It ran past him and for a moment, he could smell the entire farm on his skin. There was musk and sweat, mingling with the touch of the slaughterhouse and rest of the barn animals.

Bill wrinkled his nose but moved towards Jake.

"Alright, come, I got'cha." Lifting him by the waist, he brought the boy down with an awful, wet noise from the hook. The legs retreated without a noise, leaving Jake kneeling on the ground, shaking and sweating.

As gingerly as he could manage, the veteran brought Jake away from the hook and into the shack. Once inside, and out of sight from a majority of the cornfields, he began to carefully help pull the skin back together. He wasn't sure how it worked, but once he stood over anyone wounded and moved his hands up to help, the wound itself began to heal closed. According to the botanist and Quentin, they closed faster with extra bandaging to help really keep the affliction away from fresh harm. Sadly, however, he would have to work by at least touching around the wound in an attempt to get it to close.

He decided it was best to not question this weird magic.

Every now and then, Jake winced in pain, struggling to keep his breath even. His nails were digging hard into the dirt, in hopes of steadying his shaking knees.

Bill whispered, "Keep an even breath through your nose. You're doin' good, kid. Keep it up. You've got an iron will on ya." He watched Jake glance up at him beneath his own arm before giving a nod of confirmation and thanks. Despite the boy being so silent, he could always seem to understand tiny little dialogues from his posture and the way his eyes glowed with determination.

"Alright. Yer good. Let's go find a generator and get the hell out of here."

They both stood up, straightening their back as Jake spoke. "How many more do we have left?"

Bill snorted. "Honestly? That's a good question. I know I at least got one. Maybe four, then? We'll know once the exit gates sound."

Without another word, Jake walked carefully towards the doorframe and then turned. Bill followed behind him, listening as Jake spoke. "There's a generator near here. We can get it halfway probably before David gets hooked. That tends to usually be my case whenever something happens." He gingerly touched the spot where he was hooked at, grimacing clearly until he felt no pain.

Bill understood that very well. It was always like a strange magic to feel pain and once you're healed, nothing lingers. Absolutely nothing. It was like tobacco smoke in someone's clothes, except the remnants of the tobacco left much more quickly than usual.

Indeed, directly ahead of them, was a generator. It was smoking slightly, having been kicked by that barbarian. Some sparks flew from the inside, flickering like the life that burned from within the hot-to-the-touch fire barrel. Honestly, he was fearful it was going to combust right then and there. He naturally cringed when Jake set his hands on the machine, already lifting his hands a bit just in case shrapnel decided to fly somewhere else that wasn't already his bad knee.

The machine immediately pulled itself back together and started sputtering to life instead of looking like it was going to catch some serious fire. Only then did Bill follow up beside Jake, carefully turning tiny gears with his callused fingers and stretching his digits within to loop wires back to the proper place.

"You know," Bill muttered, "I never know if something is real or fake. Or if it's dangerous or not."

"That's part of the game," Jake replied. "Some of these gears don't even belong, but they're still here to delay us of escape." He breathed a harsh sigh from his nose. "Nothing makes sense. It just prolongs this stupid game that the Entity is dangling in front of us. Even if we die, we'll play again." Bill watched Jake's face twist as those words left him, and he even repeated it under his breath. "Even if we die, we'll play again..." It was like a hard slap to the face of how little the survivors meant.

"Well, think of it this way, Jake," he replied, a yell echoing in the distance. "If we keep this up, discovering new things and battling as best as we can, we'll get out." He knew that there would be a burnout though.

You can only run around for so long before simply becoming a disappointed husk or someone who just runs on autopilot and no longer thinks. And to think these kids had to experience it.

"Keep goin', Jake. That's the best we can do right now."

They exchanged a glance. Bill could see the determination was still there, but the kid looked like Quentin; like he could drop off into a deep sleep for hours upon hours and never wake. All of these kids were due for a good time away from this hellhole, with maybe some good, outside air and a time without horror creeping down their back.

Like the woodsman had said before, they were halfway through the generator before another scream echoed in the distance and the red outline swayed from the hook, clearly in pain. Judging by the broad shoulders and the depth of the cry, Bill could immediately tell it was David. He glanced to Jake to see if he had acknowledged the event, but Jake kept his eyes solely on the contraption that was a little over halfway done.

Guess it was his turn to peel this kid off of the hook. Maybe Ace could run around like a chicken as a distraction.

Another distant yell echoed through the swaying cornfields. The veteran sighed and walked off, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a frown. Hell only knows what that old fart tried to do, but he knew it was nothing smart.

Rolling his shoulders and neck, Bill crouched down a little and made his way through the cornfields. The heartbeat dragged its way up into his chest, and only by turning to the left did he see the thick-boned boy hauling Ace over to a hook. The man himself looked already halfway dead. His usually fine clothing was soaked in blood, but even still, he was fighting weakly against the killer.

Bill couldn't see what was wrong, but he knew if he didn't get David off of that hook now, things would only get worse.

Moving to a spring, he caught sight of David up ahead, his red outline thinning out the closer he got. He was struggling against the thickest spider legs Bill had ever seen. They were the same ones around Jake only just minutes beforehand, but they were physically attempting to stab David, like a toothpick in dough to see if it's cooked all the way through. Even as he hung like meat, his hands were up and clutching at a single hooked claw, driving it back away from his exposed throat with gritted teeth.

Bill was used to the military. Bill was used to gunshots, the screaming, blood, enormous explosions and the scent of burning, hot bullets whizzing just by his head. There was a time where the death of his buddy beside him no longer made him sad, but it made him feel a rage that was kept well-controlled behind a face that was covered in dirt and blood.

This was something, he realized, that he had never faced before in his life. It was supernatural, it was a wives' tale- It was supposed to be everything but real.

"Holy shit," he muttered, taking cautious steps forward. Just how long would it try to impale David? Was it even trying with that single, curling leg? No. Of course it wasn't. It was only giving the boy a meager chance to be saved.

As the scream of Ace pierced the muggy air, Bill was taking David down from the hook, immediately whispering, "Run." The other tore off in one direction, clutching his shoulder and bleeding side. He was wounded heavily and Bill was sure that, somehow, this monster would sniff him out like it wasn't a problem at all. A terrifying notion.

He sucked in a breath and sat at the base of the hook, hoping to blend in with the rusted metal. Much to his luck and surprise, the crooked beast walked away from the hook and simply trotted through the cornfield in a different direction. He didn't question as to why, though, especially if this was one of his few chances to get this dumbass off of the hook. Again.

This was his second time on the damn thing and Bill, once again, was a witness of the Entity attempting to stab at the throat of one of the survivors. Ace was clearly sweating as he seemed to be using all of his muscle strength to not die a horrible and painful death.

Bill removed the man from the hook, feeling sweat gripping at the back of his neck.

"Go, move! Find a generator. We're running out of time." Ace didn't stick around as he ran off, groaning all the while.

Bill looked back up at the hook, watching the legs fade away into a strange, wispy light. He took a mental note about it and began to move away from the possible zone where the terror radius could appear from. The old veteran had no intention of getting caught so soon. Especially when they still needed more generators than what they currently had going. So far, there was no feeling of accomplishment swelling in his chest.

For some reason, there was a sense that none of them would make it out. It was a horrible feeling and he vaguely recalled it from the time he had to-

He stopped mid-thought, feeling cold shivers rising throughout his body.

A generator sang its song in the distance and the pressure in his chest lessened. Dead air left his lungs and he refilled them gratefully with fresh air, despite the awful smell of burning meat and flesh in the distance. He wouldn't question it yet as he took off in a sprint elsewhere.

It was a solid two minutes of inactivity for Bill as he worked on a generator now. Anxiety was overcoming him slowly as he worked away with steady fingers, feeling his heart pump so hard that he couldn't sit down without his toes itching to move. In a way, it was more overwhelming that he would have ultimately approved of and a part of him was reeling terribly back into his days of war.

If he did that now, he might not leave it when they got back to camp.

He glanced up as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was off about the match now. Like an insidious beast was crawling up his skin, he felt something watching him from afar.

Aching for a cigarette between his lips, Bill looked back at the generator and pretended to work as he chewed on his lower lip anxiously. He waited patiently as he mocked putting two wires together by fidgeting with one by itself. It sparked in his hand, helping him focus on his current location and not the memories of his veteran instincts.

There.

It was so slow like someone had been watching pigs feed and fatten up before dinner prep. Behind him was such a soft and slow footstep that he almost didn't catch it. Not even a shadow was casted, but he knew better than to guess further.

With a grunt, Bill rolled out of the way, feeling the head of a sledgehammer narrowly grace his right shoulder as he fell to the ground. The smell of dried dirt lifted delicately up to his face but he didn't dare stick around to watch the man turn to him. He simply turned around on his hands and knees, then stood up to run.

Meg had taught Bill something very valuable only a couple years back. Use a sprint burst to get away when you first encounter the killer. Create length by running with the pressure of the calf on the tips of your toes and breathe through your nose if you could. Bill couldn't sprint well already due to his bad knee, but if he could focus for that short burst of speed, then he would get somewhere, wouldn't he?

With a single exhale, Bill sped forward as the chainsaw revved dangerously behind him. Raw energy fueled him and he found himself putting quite a bit of space between him and the killer. It didn't last long as he felt exhaustion catch his breath, but when he looked behind him, he could see the bastard was trotting at that weird pace to catch up with him.

 _Well, I'll be damned, kid, it worked._ He grinned and lowered his head, ready to be chased once again around the block. Now he would have to be as quick as he could, but Bill wasn't always that lucky.

Gritting his teeth, he used the upright pallet's to his advantage as he ducked away from this fidgety bastard. He hopped through windows and other ledges, narrowly avoiding running into haybales and remnants of farming equipment as he felt the sledgehammer nearly skin his back.

Bill casted a glance behind him as he watched the killer gain more bloodlust, looking clearly irritated and sounding as though he was slaughtering piglets. It caused goosebumps to crawl up his arms, but he didn't think anything more as he vaulted the next window to the shack.

His foot caught on something behind the window frame and he fell hard onto the wooden floor. It was hard enough for him to lose his breath and immediately glare at the cowering Ace, who had tried to be helpful but had been a little slow with getting out of the way. A nervous grin was thrown Bill's way as the chainsaw revved, one leg of Leatherface coming in one at a time.

"Ace, I would kill you right now if you weren't going to be sacrificed already."

The chainsaw ripped through his back and up Ace's chest, who had tried to run. It was one of the most awful sensations like you were simple meat for the sloppy butcher. He even felt tears trying to climb out of his eyes with how excruciating this pain was. The meathook was a stabbing pain through a large chunk of muscle. A chainsaw was a machine that purposefully ripped through anything harder than wood.

Feeling numb all the way to his fingertips, Bill felt the beast pull him up onto his shoulder, blood seeping through his jacket. Fatigue had settled and the veteran could only struggle so much when his pain was almost blinding. The hook was almost nothing but it still caused him to cry.

Satisfied, however, Leatherface left to go grab Ace.

Bill sighed, looking around the cornfields in hopes of finding familiar faces or watching those hideous machines light up. A strange silence filled the air before he glanced down at his feet.

"Oh Jesus, Ace!" Bill hissed, looking at the smirking face of the lucky man. "How did you get up?"

"Let's just say," he said, moving to run with Bill, "I learned how to have quite the unbreakable will from a good friend." The two shared a glance for only a moment before they sprinted off, both of them bearing the wreckage of Leatherface's power. Bill could hear the bastard squealing in confusion and frustration with how Ace had managed to get up on his own.

In the middle of the hefty cornfield, Bill and Ace healed one another swiftly. Holding the skin together seemed to help, like how bandaging after a long period of time helped with healing large, open wounds. It was strange, but no one was complaining. It was faster than simply getting your ass kicked over and over and over until you were nothing but bloody party streamers.

The silence of the realm was overwhelming, however, and Ace picked up on it as fast as what Bill seemed to have done.

"There's a problem with the clouds up above. They keep spinning like a roulette table. I don't very much like that." Bill patiently ran his hands over the males back, hand-sewing up the ripped skin and muscle.

"It's quiet, too," he whispered, grunting as he soon got to his feet. "Something must be going on. And I don't very much like it."

With a roar that made both flinch, the exit gates came to life as the last generator cried gold. For a solid few seconds, Bill turned around, eyeing the lights of the exit gates and memorizing their pattern. They were fairly far away, spacing itself across the entire farm field, leaving lots of room for the killer to prance back and forth in search of any escapee's. This left them all with the chance to hide wait near at least one exit door before escaping when the killer turned.

Bill used Meg's sprint burst ability again to speed along towards the closest gate, sneezing as he was forced to inhale the musty corn dust. It was truly awful, but never as bad as the massacre that he and Ace had nearly endured.

He gripped the iron bar and pulled it down with a grunt, finding the lever rusty and barely in function. It was like it just wanted to make life harder than what it was already.

"Someone's down." Bill looked over his shoulder as the gates clicked and slowly unlocked. "I think it's Jake." The veteran looked up at the faint, red outline that was near the middle of the map. His grip lessened on the bar as he moved to turn around entirely, but Ace's hand stalled his movement. "No. Let me do this. I don't want to be the one that escapes without doing anything."

Bill wanted to scold him a little for thinking about himself, but he decided not to. In a way, Bill felt his words in his heart. Squeezing the lever, he sighed.

"Go ahead. I'll be here. Don't get caught, ya hear?"

Ace looked over his shades at Bill, smiling with that same-as-ever confidence. "No promises, friend." And with that, he left for the cornfields, trotting away and eventually disappearing into the farmland. The sight left a bitter taste in Bill's mouth, making him long for a long cigarette as the exit gates slowly opened, signified by one red light after the next.

In silence, he waited, soon pulling his hand away to stick his cold fingers in his pockets. Behind him, the iron door shifted, clicked and slid open slowly, like a patch of really shitty sheet work on a rooftop. He glanced at them once, eyeing the piss-poor work as he heard noise; battle.

Like fire lighting up his nerves, he looked forward, eyeing the boy on the hook that glowed red and the other appearing in just as bright of color right next to the hook. The outline was just enough for him to discern that it was Ace, who was just recently healed to full. But how? How could they suddenly just all fall like dominos when they were all, more than likely, doing fine?

Bill charged into the fray. Sweat had long begun to cling to his clothes but with it came goosebumps. High above their heads swirled this angry palette of deep scarlet. Black marked its veiny pathway like lightning, piercing through the sky. It made him so uneasy that he wanted to hurl. It was so similar to how much asphalt had fallen and cracked back with his original passe.

 _Ba-thump._

He stopped and focused, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he stumbled to breathe. Staring at him only a few meters away was Leatherface. On his right shoulder was an unconscious David and at his feet was Ace, who had clearly taken a heavy blow to the head. His eyes were covered with blood, forcing him to keep them shut while beside him was Jake, who was fighting off the Entity.

"Go, Bill! We're done here!" Bill's knees were weak as Jake called to him. The heartbeat thrummed in his ears, but he felt his own hammering away in distress. "Run, Bill!"

"But-"

Ace coughed, waving blindly at Bill. "Go on, old timer. One of us needs to at least survive, eh?"

His heart felt it was ripping into two. It was a familiar feeling that he had lost in war long ago, but now here it was, happening again. He knew better, but already he could see the two lives mingling together. Where he had to leave them all again to the enemy, just so that he could survive.

Very slowly, Bill removed his hat and put it against his chest. With tears threatening to spill, he gave an army salute before running off towards the exit gates in silence.

He had failed in protecting them. Even in death, he had failed his own mission.

* * *

Sally watched the show with everyone, her heart sinking in agony for Bill. He had tried to hard to rescue them all, and yet here he was, slinking away with tears nearly on his face. She wanted to help so terribly, but she was enslaved to stay in this place of vengeful killers.

They, too, were in pain. That is why they were here.

The Nurse floated away from the spectacle, her hands clasped in front of her into a nervous fidget. Their bodies would appear soon and she was prepared to receive them on these old cots.

She was deemed correct as the warmth of the Entity's breath fanned over the realm, having clearly engulfed another part of Jake Park. Her arms extended as she looked up, eyeing the body slowly collecting in front of her like ash. Like dead weight, he landed into her arms, but she didn't mind. He was like the child she never had and just having his presence was comforting.

Very gently, she tucked him under the cotton covers, eyeing the multiple stab wounds from the Entity's teeth and the broken bones from Bubba's unruly sledgehammer. However, it was all he knew how to do, almost like Max.

She sighed slightly before she floated around, shutting the door gently to work in peace. The woman gathered a large basket into her arms, which was filled from corner to corner with sewing thread, needles, bandaging, cotton gauze and more. Most of these items weren't found in the first aid kit that the Entity had offered to the survivors. It made her work easier.

Pleased with herself, she looked up from one side of the room, eyeing Jake Park. Her basket hit the floor as she stared at a survivor who was fully awake in the Entity's realm.


End file.
